


Shattered Silence

by AnonGrimm



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics)
Genre: "Foul" Language, 3-hankie story, Anal Sex, Dashes of Humor, F/M, Graphic Sex, Heavy Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It’s Wolverine so it gets very bloody, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Tragic Romance, angst-fest, minimal telepathic dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan and Jean on a solo adventure. The shadow of Cyclops still hangs between them as they struggle to survive in a world much more suited to Logan’s brutal nature than Jean’s reasoning mind. She must deal with his violent nature and he must deal with keeping them both alive. In the midst of it all, they struggle with the long felt want between them – the love Logan would openly declare if she allowed it and the lust for him she fights to deny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Status Quo

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic
> 
> TIMELINE: This story occurs after Uncanny X-Men #392 - 394 and before (as well as during) Grant Morrison’s New X-Men titles, # 135 - 141. This story runs concurrent with my Sabretooth tale, “Redemption” and my Doctor Octopus tale, “Of Dreams and Dust”, though both Logan’s and Doc Ock’s stories will be chronologically done before “Redemption” is.
> 
> Cyclops has recently returned from his presumed death; his ordeal with Apocalypse has changed him greatly, and a new strain is evident in his and Jean’s marriage. Canon will be bent here and there, but I usually try to keep things as grounded as possible, so that one can imagine my stories fitting between the adventures of canon events.
> 
> A brief summary of recent events I’m fitting this story between: Most of the X-Men have been scattered at this point, with many of them off searching for the Destiny Diaries. During the “Eve of Destruction” storyline, a few of the X-Men and some new additions, led by Phoenix, defeated Magneto in his mutant nation of Genosha while rescuing Charles Xavier. Polaris was there, too, helping Cyclops and Wolverine rescue human refugees. At the conclusion of that story, Wolverine stabbed his claws into Magneto’s gut, putting him in critical condition. Magneto survived, in a wheelchair, and has been recovering. Later, the villain Cassandra Nova Xavier destroys Genosha with Sentinels, killing 16 million mutants. Magneto is reported dead, but he survived and has been living in the ruins. After dealing with these events, Xavier outs himself as a mutant to the world, which leads up to the events of Open Day at the Xavier School. One point where I will bend canon is with Storm. For my story, she is home at the mansion after the Eve of Destruction story. She can go after the Destiny Diaries with the others after the events in my tale.
> 
> My Wolverine is based on the feral mutant in the comics, in particular the version of him when they draw him sexy and write him as an intelligent, though brutal, character. Rather than make this note as long as the story, you can get more details at my personal fanfic blog: mindseyetheatre.net or look up Wolverine on the Marvel Comics wikis and databases. The cover art was borrowed from Ian Churchill (the comic cover of Uncanny X-Men # 394) and spruced up for my story by my wonderful husband. Thanks for reading. (@MET_Fic) - AnonGrimm

Maybe you and I see life with two different visions,  
and neither one of us is wrong or right.  
And maybe we're too serious and don't want to listen.  
I just want to make you laugh tonight.

We’re like day and night, night and day.  
We are both so different in so many ways.  
We’re like night and day, day and night,  
and we go together just like black and white.

~ Night And Day (Bette Midler)

*****************************************************************

Scott was silent. He hadn’t said a word or looked away from CNN for two hours. Jean had moved often. From her original seat beside him, she had moved close. He hadn’t acknowledged her. She’d lain with her head in his lap. His arms remained crossed over his chest, bisecting the stylized X printed on his t-shirt. Now she stood behind him, unconsciously mirroring both his pose and expression ... and his silence.

The only sound in the room was the chatter of the news reporters, and the news was all bad. Renegade mutants were showing up everywhere, either victimized or victimizing. No matter how many times the X-Men mobilized, individually or in teams, to deal with a problem, there were always more. It was the new status quo, and Scott’s silent and angry obsession was a part of it.

Jean didn’t need to wonder when this had started. Almost from the moment he returned to active duty after escaping from his merging with Apocalypse, Scott had been different. It had slowly turned into an unspoken rift between them, generating a confusion and desperation in her that had driven her into a corner. Not so long ago, it had also driven her into Logan’s arms – something she had managed to keep secret, but the guilt still haunted her.

Scott had sent her with Logan to meet that threat. He and Warren had followed, but when they arrived, it had almost been too late.

Absorbed into a young mutant’s subconscious by his astounding powers, she and Logan had battled for their lives against the phantoms of the mutant’s mind. Then his mind had started to collapse. They had escaped, but for one blinding moment, it had seemed that death would finally claim them. Logan hadn’t lost time living their last moments to the fullest. His kiss, his touch, had been searing – but only the brighter heat of her guilty eager response to him still burned.

_It wasn’t the first time, either. Why do we keep getting thrown together at the exact moment that one or both of us is about to die? His response is always the same, yanking me into a kiss. His choice, not mine … but I always choose to allow it, and more – and he always knows I will._

The thrum and roar of a Harley interrupted her thoughts only to bring them back to Logan. He was home early. Would he stay, or go out again? Jean turned away from her husband and left the room. Behind her, the voices droned on. The violence and need would always be there.

Out in the hall, the motorcycle noise ceased and a door leading in from the garage slammed. Jean headed for the kitchen. At least Logan would talk to her.

He was rooting in the refrigerator for a beer. His black hair was wilder than normal from being tossed and tangled in the wind. The black leather and yellow markings of the uniform pants and jacket were tight over his stocky muscular build, and his boots were leaving mud all over the floor.

“What’s up, Red?” he asked before he turned. Straightening and facing her as he opened the bottle, he gave her a smile. His thoughts as he appraised her gray sweats and white tank t-shirt almost made her blush.

“Nothing. Well, nothing here, anyway. The rest of the troops headed out on another call an hour after you left on yours. It’s just Scott and I here now.”

Logan cocked his head and she knew he could hear the television down the hall, though she couldn’t. He drank half of the beer in one pull. “He’s still monitorin’ huh? Least ya got ‘im outta tha Ready Room. Well don’t mind me, darlin’; I won’t be in yer hair long.”

The memory of his fingers tangled in her hair struck her forcefully. “What are your plans?”

“Catch a quick shower, head t’ tha Auger Inn. Probly make it a late night. With or without Cyke, don’t wait up.”

She picked up a ceramic saltshaker from the center island and toyed with it. “He’ll probably stick with CNN for a while yet. I might go read ... or something. So did it go okay with the Bronx boy?”

“Yeah. Tidy.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Don’t bother me none, but ya look like a woman who’s sick o’ shop talk.”

She looked up at him and smiled wryly. “You’re not wrong – but conversation is good.”

He finished off the beer and tossed the bottle in the trash. It struck something and broke, making her jump. Logan eyed her thoughtfully, but didn’t comment on her reaction. “I felt a need t’ raise a mug an’ toss an eight ball, but if ya want conversation, I could stay.”

Jean sighed. “No, don’t change your plans for me. I’ll just let Mr. Clancy whisk me off into another whirlwind spy adventure. One without mutants.”

“Yer call, but if it ain’t all it’s cracked up t’ be, there’s always some adventure t’ be had at tha ol’ Auger Inn. Yer welcome t’ drop by.”

“That’s okay.” She put the saltshaker down and turned to go. “Have fun.”

“Same t’ ya, Jeannie. G’night.”

She left the kitchen with his admiration of her figure trailing after her. He was subtle, of course. If she weren’t a telepath, she would never have known his thoughts were drifting into carnal territory while he maintained a straight and friendly face. It never bothered her, because his friendship was sincere, as was his care for her.

Hugging herself as she went to the bedroom of the suite she and Scott shared, Jean let the sense of Logan’s concern fill her. His regard felt good. Not being ignored felt better. She sat on the bed, propped against pillows, and picked up her book. As she tried to read the same page for the third time, she put it down again.

_Is he still here? I haven’t heard the bike yet._  She reached out to touch Logan’s mind without intruding on his thoughts, merely locating him inside the mansion. He was heading out.

Jean got up and went downstairs, entering the hall just in time to see him leave. His camouflage military pants, heavy black boots and brown leather bomber jacket were topped off by the old brown cowboy hat. He paused at the door to the garage and threw her a wave. She waved back. The door closed. Noise erupted as the Harley roared to life and tore away into town.

Silence crept up around her again. She didn’t move for a long time, but when she turned to go back to her room, she frowned at the thought that had slipped into her mind.

*****************************************************************

The Auger Inn was a comfortably shabby dive in Salem Center populated by general toughs, ex-military, and biker types. The brew wasn’t watered down, the pool table was level, and the jukebox was turned up to ten. Not every man’s view of heaven, but for Logan, it came pretty close.

He was into his fourth round of both beer and pool, and losing for the fourth time. No bets were on it, so it didn’t matter and his pride couldn’t give a damn. The game, the tunes, the mountain of tattoos he played against – it all blurred into the form of Jean in his mind’s eye. Leaning over the felt, he took aim, let fly, and ignored how the balls ended up.

_She remembers what happened in that kid’s head, I know she does. That look she gave me as Cyke helped ‘er stand was somethin’ – but sayin’ she didn’t remember spared ‘er havin’ t’ lie big. She wanted it. Just like before. Like always, we don’t say a word when it’s over an’ ‘er eyes beg me t’ pretend: that I didn’t feel ‘er respond t’ me, didn’t scent ‘er desire. Okay, Jeannie. No sweat, darlin’. Fer yer sake, I lie. No big deal. I’d die fer ya, after all._

His opponent shifted from foot to foot impatiently. “You communing with the cue, fellah, or are you planning to shoot? It’s your go, again.”

Logan glared, shifted the  **Cohíba**  cigar in his mouth from right to left, and aimed the cue. The door to the joint opened as the balls cracked against each other. A familiar and enticing scent entered the room. He noted the eight ball – it sat between the cue ball and a convenient pocket. He smiled.

“Grinning over another butt-kicking; man, I wish I’d laid money on this,” the inked giant complained.

“Sorry, bub. I gotta lady t’ entertain.” He put the cue up and turned to face the tall redhead in the painted-on jeans, heeled boots, and hunter green cable-knit sweater. She shivered in her long denim duster. “Hiya, Jeannie.”

“Hi. I’m sorry to crash.”

He let out a bark of laughter and steered her to a booth at the back of the room. “What’s yer poison t’night, darlin’?”

“That depends on whether or not you’ll drive me home.”

“Natch.” He held the cigar away from her. “How’d ya get here? Not flyin’ in tha cold, I hope.”

“Scott ran off to meet the others. He wouldn’t let me go since I’m technically still recovering from my cold. I promised to sit in a heated coffee shop, and then walked over here when he left.”

“Playin’ hooky – I like it. So what’ll ya have?”

“Surprise me.”

Logan smiled and headed for the bar. He returned with a fresh mug of beer for himself and a glass of Kir for Jean. Sitting opposite her, he stripped off his jacket and set it on the bench seat beside him, topping it with his hat.

“What is this?” she asked, taking a tentative sip.

“Kir. White wine an’ grenadine. So, did tha submarine sink?”

“No, this book doesn’t have submarines, but the mansion was too quiet already. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind company.”

“Nope, don’t mind.”

“This is a very – colorful – place. Is the music always so loud?”

“Yup.” He took a swallow of beer and watched her. Otis crooned  _Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay_  with a back-up chorus of laughter, clinking glassware, and the strike of billiards. “I like a place that never changes. This one just happens t’ be close ‘nuff t’ be elected my favorite.”

Jean smiled. “Thank you.”

“What fer?”

“Being my friend – and for not asking about my problems.”

“Guess I shouldn’t admit that I was goin’ t’, then, huh?” He winked at her. “Just kiddin’. No problems, no shop talk. How ‘bout ‘em Yankees?”

“How about another drink?” She finished off the wine. “Something a little dangerous may be in order, since our teammates are out fighting the good fight without us.”

“Feelin’ guilty? Yer a convalescent – legal t’ be slackin’. Me, I’ve done my bit fer t’night. Wanna ‘nother surprise?”

“Sure.”

“Comin’ right up.”

He ordered her drink and got a bottle of decent single malt whiskey for himself. Fingers tapping the bar, he turned and watched her scan the room. Was she scanning the thoughts of the regulars too? She might not want to. Every man in the place not actively taking a drink or shooting pool was staring at her.

_Can’t blame ‘em. Easy Canucklehead,_  he told himself.  _She can pick yer thoughts up just as clear as tha rest o’ these slaverin’ dogs._   _Whistle a jaunty tune in yer head an’ hide behind it. Jube swears it works ‘round Emma._

He’d planned on something with a beat, but the song that stuck in his head was a ballad. Sticking the bottle of whiskey under his arm, he carried her drink and an empty shot glass back to their booth.

“Coffee?” She seemed amused.

“Ya looked cold. It’s loaded,” he warned.

Jean sipped the drink and tried not to make a face when the Jägermeister and Kahlua hit her. “It’s good,” she lied.

Logan grinned. “Ya wanted danger.”

“And you’re having?”

“Glenfiddich.”

“Dangerous?”

“Perilous – if I were capable o’ gettin’ drunk.”

“I may envy your healing factor tomorrow.”

Logan shrugged. “Handy in a fight, but it really takes tha fun outta my vices.”

*****************************************************************

The coffee was gone. When she appropriated his shot glass and tossed back some of the whiskey, Logan just watched her. A moment later, as she reached for the bottle a second time, his hand covered hers and stopped her from lifting it.

“Yer gonna thank me in tha mornin’,” he said.

He didn’t move his hand immediately and she was vaguely sorry when he did. His touch was as warm as his friendship.

She frowned then. “What is that song?”

“ _Li’l Sister_ , Stevie Ray Vaughn.”

“Not that – the one on a constant loop in your head.”

“Oh. That’s Bette Midler, song called  _Night an’ Day_.”

 

“Do they have it on the jukebox?”

“Think so. Stay here,” he told her, producing a quarter, “I’ll go see.”

When she stood to follow, her brain spun and she almost fell back into the seat. Touching the table edge for a moment, she waited until she regained her balance. It took an amazing amount of coordination to take off her coat and lay it on the booth seat. By the time she managed it, the sweet love song about a couple facing their differences started playing.

_Facing things – not my best talent._

She couldn’t stop her eyes from sweeping over him as he leaned on the jukebox. Logan was three inches shorter than her 5’6 height, but his body was beautifully developed. His rugged good looks were half-hidden in the mutton chop sideburns and thick, long wild hair. Yet no matter how enshrouded in cigar smoke he became, he couldn’t hide his soul from her, or his heart of gold. Because of that heart, he was one of her best friends.

_If he’s a friend, Dr. Grey, you might want to raise your eyes a notch. You’re staring several inches below his heart._ She blushed.  _What is it about you, Logan? Why do you make me feel like a breathless schoolgirl? It’s that damn kiss – why can’t I forget it? I shouldn’t be interested at all. I love Scott._ The feeling of being crushed in Logan’s arms rose in her memory. She tried to push it away as she walked over to him.  _I should go sit down before I make a fool of myself … but it’s just a dance, Dr. Grey. Just a dance – nothing wrong with it._

She examined her old rule of doing nothing with Logan that she wouldn’t do if Scott were standing there. She’d danced with him before, while Scott danced with Ororo, last Christmas. So it was legal. Logan turned at her touch on his shoulder.

Jean smiled. “Dance with me?”

He didn’t say a word; he just reached to lay his cigar in an ashtray on the jukebox and took her in his arms.

The song ran strong in his thoughts, masking them. Jean knew she could slip around it, but she was afraid to. She also knew she was tipsy and in a moment, his arms tightened around her when she nearly lost her footing.

“Are we gonna tell tha others that Mr. Sinister attacked an’ got ya sloshed before I could stop ‘im?”

“Sounds good to me,” she whispered, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

One hand was against his lower back, the other pressed to his chest. The thin black t-shirt allowed her to feel the play of his muscles under the slight springy press of thick chest hair. His hands were in legal places – but they hadn’t been during the kisses they’d shared, now and then, when their lives had been threatened.

“Too bad we aren’t in danger,” she muttered against his chest.

“Speak fer yerself,” he whispered.

*****************************************************************

_My scars are on tha inside, like Blue Oyster Cult preached it ... but tha raw wounds are all yer handiwork, Jeannie._

When the song ended and a brutal Godsmack tune started up, he tried not to look relieved. Retrieving his cigar, he gave her his arm and helped her back to the booth. She sat watching him, leaning her head back against the tall booth seat.

“Ya ready t’ go, darlin’?”

“I’d like to go somewhere and talk … without the noise.”

“May as well be home then – c’mon.”

He helped her into her coat before grabbing his own. Leaving a tip on the table, he picked up his hat. Jean took it from him and put it on his head herself with an intoxicated smile.

Outside, he gestured to the left. The red Harley crouched in the shadow of the building. Logan swung his leg over it and knocked the kickstand back with his boot. Holding it steady, he gave her his hand to help her up behind him. She settled against his back, her hands circling his waist.

“Got yer coat tucked under ya good? It’ll get caught in tha scoot if it ain’t.”

“I think so. Logan?”

“Yeah?”

She leaned into him and spoke at his ear. “Drive like a maniac.”

A wicked smirk spread over his face. He tossed the cigar down and stomped on it. The motorcycle started with its heavy roar. Her arms clutched at him tightly and her shout of delight rang out as they shot down the road.

At top speed, it didn’t take long to reach Graymalkin Lane. The Xavier mansion loomed up over them and then swallowed them as Logan drove inside the massive garage. The door closed automatically behind them as he slipped the bike between Warren’s Lamborghini Murciélago and Cyke’s Aston Martin DB7.

As Jean slipped off the bike, her hands moved away from his body reluctantly _. Is that tha hooch or a hint? Don’t misread tha body language, bub. ‘Sides, she probly really wants t’ just talk._   _Tha way Cyke’s been ignorin’ her has t’ be drivin’ her crazy._

“I needed that,” she said.

He took in her perfectly orderly long hair and grinned. “Yer cheatin’, Jeannie. Leave tha TK off an’ let tha wind in. It’s tha only way t’ go.”

“Spoken like a man who doesn’t have to comb it all out later.” She threw her arm over his shoulders. “That’s a lot more fun than these convertibles, though.”

“Ya can fly; tha scoot can’t compete with that.” He steadied her balance on their way inside.

“Not right now I couldn’t,” she answered, and laughed.

Logan tried to lead her to the kitchen, but she pulled him toward the room Scott had been in earlier. He ditched his jacket and hat and sat nearby, studying her as she looked up at the blank plasma screen.

Jean didn’t speak. After a moment, she moved closer to him, turned slightly and leaned her back against his chest. He allowed it, but didn’t try to touch her.

“Logan, please hold me.”

Hoping Mr. Summers had flown off to Peru to handle the latest mutant scourge, he let his arms encircle her, keeping his touch casual. He couldn’t care if Scott walked in on them, but he knew she would.

Jean snuggled into him. “What are you thinking?”

“Yer tha mind reader, darlin’.”

“I don’t want to pry. I’d rather you told me.”

He frowned. “Thinkin’ ‘bout not givin’ a damn if Cyke walked in. Where’d they go?”

“New Jersey – there’s a mutant there with some sort of toxic acid secretion.”

“Might not be a mutant. Could just be some poor slob who lives too close t’ a factory.”

Her laugh was quiet, muted. In another moment, she had drifted off to sleep. Logan picked her up easily and carried her out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

When he laid her down on the bed, she woke and touched his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothin’ t’ worry ‘bout. Get some sleep. Need anythin’?”

“No, but I can’t sleep in all this.” She sat up and took off her coat.

Logan took it from her and laid it over a chair. “I can’t stick ‘round fer tha slip int’ pajamas, Jeannie, but I will bring ya somethin’ t’ drink.” He went to the door.

“More hair of the dog?” She smiled.

“Water. It’ll lessen yer hangover t’morrow.”

When he returned with a tall glass tumbler of cold water, Jean was in bed with the telltale thin straps of a navy nightdress showing above the covers. She was awake and watching him as he set the glass on her nightstand.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” she told him, and gave him a lopsided smile.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “If ya wanna talk, ya know where I am. An’ I know ya didn’t ask, but I’m givin’ my opinion anyway. He’s wrong t’ shut ya out. After what ya went through, thinkin’ he was dead... Ya deserve better, darlin’.”

“He was in my place once, when you all thought I died on the moon. He must have felt like this.”

“Sure. Then he married Madelyn Prior. Nice that a carbon copy came along t’ help ‘im with ‘is grief.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Logan went to the door and turned off the lights in the room. “Yeah, an’ he’s makin’ tha new Mrs. Summers ‘bout as happy as tha last one. G’night, Jeannie.”

He closed her door and went to his own room, located in the men’s dormitory wing. His gaze landed on a long Japanese katana hanging on the wall. It was black, without any markings or adornments – a weapon for brutal utility, not display. Yet it hung where the honor sword of Clan Yashida once had. Frowning at it, he turned and went downstairs to fetch his jacket and hat.

On his way back upstairs he heard the Blackbird returning. Toxic mutant contained or escaped? Logan shook his head.  _Too bad it wasn’t somethin’ that could eat Cyke whole an’ spit out tha bones._


	2. Silent Lucidity

Your dream is over ... or has it just begun?

The walls you built within come tumbling down  
and a new world will begin  
Living twice at once you learn

You’re safe from pain in the dream domain  
A soul set free to fly...

~ Silent Lucidity (Queensrÿche)

*****************************************************************

“Scott?” The soft sounds in the dark bedroom ceased.

“I was trying not to wake you,” he said. When he snapped on the bathroom light, she saw that he was already dressed in his uniform.

Jean sat up and felt her head spin. She had pretended to be asleep when he’d come to bed, planning to talk to him in the morning. Now he was rushing off again. She reached for the glass of water Logan had brought her and drank it down at once.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded all right – not angry, and not drunk, thank God.

“We’ve gotten another call. Tennessee. Ororo’s coming with us on this one, so we might be back for breakfast.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Jean let her face sink into her hands.  _Why does he have to go? Can’t Ororo and Warren handle it?_   _Or Logan._ When Scott headed for the door, she looked up quickly. “Could you send Logan in your place?”

“And risk him popping his claws in the middle of a delicate negotiation? We want to talk a crowd of rednecks out of hunting down a pair of mutants on their land. We don’t want a stack of dead people. Tempers are hot enough over there.”

“The only one of you who speaks redneck is Logan.”

“If he bothers to talk first. There’s no time, Jean. Logan’s too volatile for this one.” Without another word, he grabbed his uniform jacket and stepped out.

“Be safe,” she whispered to the empty room.

Jean lay back down and felt the tears rise. He would have left without waking her at all. The black pit of pain that had filled her while Scott had been gone, presumed dead, threatened to creep back into her heart. She fought it, not wanting to face the barren horror again. Yet in so many ways, her husband hadn’t returned to her at all. Explaining it away and making excuses didn’t help anymore.

She was on her feet and putting on her robe over the nightdress before she knew what she intended to do. Standing in the hall outside her suite, she hesitated.

Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t wake him up to talk about your upset with Scott. You’ve troubled Logan enough for one night.

Jean had turned to go back to her room when his voice stopped her. “Jeannie? Ya awright, darlin’?”

He stood in the hall, dressed in nothing but black jogging pants, with a beer in one hand and a newspaper rolled under the other arm. His dark blue eyes watched her with concern, but if she looked deeper, she could see other things – how he felt about her, how she made him feel. Things she used to sense from her husband, before Apocalypse took him and changed everything.

 _Logan’s dealt with that too,_  she mused.  _Apocalypse made him Death once, but he came back to us, unchanged; even if he does disappear for a time to recover alone. Is there anything he hasn’t survived?_

The man the world knew as Wolverine approached her with an expression of compassion that many would never see on his face. “What is it, Jeannie?”

“Scott left.”

“I heard. Didn’t wanna bring tha adamantium juicer along, obviously.” He smiled at her warmly. “Ya oughta be asleep.”

“Would you – I know I shouldn’t ask.”

“Ya shouldn’t hafta.” Setting the bottle and newspaper on a small table against the wall behind him, he returned to her. “C’mon,” he said, and touched her shoulder. “Let’s get ya back in bed an’ I’ll sit with ya. I don’t need much sleep – ‘nother side effect o’ tha ol’ healin’ factor.”

Logan steered her back to her bed and she allowed it, relaxing into letting him take control. He paused only when she dropped the bathrobe and slipped under the covers. The bright flush of his thoughts filtered through her muzzy brain slowly.

“I’m sorry ... I don’t mean to...” She lay down and closed her eyes.

“Don’t fret, darlin’.” He picked up the bathrobe, laid it on the foot of the bed and turned out the lights. The bathroom light was still on and it left them both in shadow.

A fierce blush heated Jean’s face. The nightdress was sheer in enough places to entice a surly husband; she hadn’t thought about it until it was too late. Breaking the awkward silence, she whispered, “How can you put up with me?”

“Ya don’t want me t’ answer that, do ya?” His gaze was steady on her as he sat in an armchair on her left.

“No.” She bit her lip a moment. “But thank you.”

Logan nodded. “Sleep. Yer gonna need it when that whiskey calls in its markers.”

~ ~ ~

Jean dreamed of his husky voice in her ear and the rough scrape of his unshaven chin along her jaw. A low feral growl set her blood on fire. He was pressing her down. Why were they surrounded by snow?

With a snap she woke and stared across the room at Logan, still in the chair. His eyes were closed.

 _Oh God, why am I dreaming about that? It was so real._  She shivered. His strength had been shocking. His need – tantalizing.  _I’ve never been able to fight this, have I? Something about his nature draws me to him, even if it frightens me sometimes, too. Logan, you’re such a confusing person – a knight and a beast at once._

He shifted slightly and she held her breath. Slowly, carefully, she opened up her telepathy and pierced his thoughts. In an instant, she was immersed in a dream similar to her own. She didn’t try to see the images his mind created, but his mental speech painted the picture clearly enough.

Guiltily, she withdrew from his mind, but not before her body had been affected by what she had touched. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes. It was difficult to fall asleep but when she did, the rampant desire was infused again into her dreams.

_Mold it, change it – lucid dreaming can be altered, nudged. Turn the body you want into Scott’s._

It slipped away from her. The form that loomed over hers, the weight that pressed her down, was not her husband’s. Her fingernails rasped along a roughened jaw. When the mouth licked and nipped at her throat, there were canine fangs there, sharp and deadly, that threaded her soul with lust.

*****************************************************************

It had begun as a hunting dream. Then, somewhere along the windswept snow, the prey had changed. The mule deer became slender warm flesh, a woman of ivory skin and firebrand hair. The emerald eyes taunted him, inspiring the chase.

Bloodlust turned to mating need in an instant. Had he run her down or did she allow herself to be caught? Rational sense did not return until she was panting beneath him. Naked in the snow, he didn’t feel the cold – but she did. He sought to warm her with the furtive friction of sex. As his mind returned, he knew her, but another’s scent was on her skin, enraging his animal heart.

Go, seek out tha trespasser – kill tha rival fer tha mate. No. Jean wouldn’t thank ya fer that. She’s here – why is she here? Don’t question – take what’s given. Let t’morrow seek its answers alone.

As he took her, lost in the act of sinking deep inside her heat, he woke with a start – and there she was, not three feet away, lying in her bed watching him. Desire and guilt warred in her eyes.

“Ya feelin’ okay, Jeannie?” he asked, trying to bury his thoughts in a haze of incidental nonsense.

“Yes,” she whispered. “If you wanted to go back to bed, I’ll be fine.”

He wanted to watch over her, but the urge to climb in bed with her was getting strong.  _No point in a scene like that. Wantin’ it’s a far cry from sayin’ yes, though she might be kind an’ not dump me out with a TK punch._   _Get some distance, bub; yer goin’ nuts here._ “Guess I could.” He got up quickly and moved to the door. “If ya need – anythin’ – just yell.”

“Okay.”

Outside, he leaned against her door and tried to steady his breathing. When he could return to his room, he didn’t go to bed.

As the sun rose, he was still sitting on the floor in a lotus position with his eyes closed. Yet the meditation he’d learned decades ago in Japan couldn’t chase the conflict from his heart.

~ ~ ~

They were back from Tennessee by morning and Jean had taken up her torch again. Logan dressed in black leather pants that didn’t bear a single X, his heavy boots, and a white tank t-shirt and headed outside for a walk. His old cowboy hat was perched on his head and a cigar puffed in his mouth as he stalked from the mansion to the woods around it.

He reached the little brook at a spot where a wide rock hung over its bank, surrounded by dandelions. Without disturbing the delicate plants, he sat on the edge of the rock and watched the water flow beneath him.

Faces formed in his thoughts, a slow montage of women he had loved. The majority of them were dead. The few who had ended their lives on the points of his claws haunted him the most. It was always a choice of theirs – to spare them a more terrible and unavoidable end. Mariko Yashida, the most cherished of them, had asked him for mercy to save her from poison. In her honor, he still tried to be the samurai she had asked him to become.

As always, there were ghosts among his past loves – sketchy images, forgotten emotions – were they the ones whom he had loved in times he didn’t remember? The gaps in his memory were disturbingly vast. Could whole lifetimes be lost there?

 _Any way ya look at it, it ain’t a great track record,_  he thought, as the bitterness welled up inside.  _Why mix Jean up in that mess? Be grateful she loves tha teacher’s pet an’ leave ‘er in peace. Even though peace ain’t what she’s got._

As he popped the triple claws from his right hand, the sudden ~snikt~ seemed loud in the stillness of the trees. With a flick of his wrist, he cut the stem of a dandelion. The retracting claws disappeared again with an abrupt ~snakt~ sound.

 _Damn ya t’ Hell, Cyke, ya don’t deserve that woman. Ya drove Madelyn int’ yer brother’s waitin’ arms. If ya land Jean in mine, yer gonna have only yerself t’ blame._ He picked up the fallen dandelion and took the cigar out of his mouth.  _If wishes were horses,_ he thought, and blew on the seeds.

The tiny white tufts flew out over the brook and were caught in the breeze. They danced a moment over the swirl of water before being carried out and away through the trees.

*****************************************************************

Ororo moved through the garden using her mutant gift of manipulating the weather to call up a light breeze to blow the leaves from their path.

“We’ll have our first snow early, I think,” she said.

Jean hugged herself as she walked beside her friend. “As nature dictates? Or were you in the mood for a toboggan ride?” Her tone was sour. At the startled look the other woman gave her, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“About Scott?” Ororo brushed a stray lock of long white hair behind her ear.

“Yes, but not in the way you think. I don’t understand his attitude.”

“He does seem a trifle overeager to fight the good fight.”

“I could accept that, but he’s spending most of his time ignoring me. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly at arm’s length and I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore. He’s only happy when he’s flying away from me; I’ve just refused to see it until now.”

“I wish I could advise you, but I must confess his behavior confuses me, too.” When she stepped off of the path and headed over the lawn toward the forest edge, Jean followed.

“Ororo, we... He hasn’t – touched me – in so long. It’s confusing, frustrating ... and I just don’t know what to do. Everything I’ve tried just falls flat, no response. He isn’t even pretending to care anymore. He treats me like just another member of a team, not like his wife ... a woman he loves.”

“Oh, my friend ... my sister, I am so sorry. I had no idea it had gone so far. Have you tried to discuss this directly with him?”

“I’d ask him why if I could corner the man, but he just avoids me. Then when Logan and I were ... in danger, in that young mutant’s mind, Scott was furious. Or so Warren said.”

“He didn’t seem relieved to see you safe?”

“He was – possessive. It was strange ... but not like he used to be.”

Ororo stopped at the edge of the forest and faced her. Placing her hands on Jean’s shoulders, she smiled kindly. “Give him time. Not everyone can bounce back from a round with Apocalypse as quickly as some.”

“I’m not sure what to do about him, either.”

“Logan? Don’t worry about him.”

“It’s not him I’m worried for. It’s me.”

“Jean, I’ve known you both so long. I think I know you well. He is patient and loyal. He respects your choices, too. No matter what hardships conflict you, you love Scott. It will be all right.”

“I couldn’t say this to anyone else, but you understand. When we were inside that mutant’s mind, we thought we’d die. He kissed me. I let him.”

“You were afraid, and Logan will always live life to the fullest and to the very last. Don’t judge yourself so harshly.”

“I wanted it ... and – it’s not the first time it happened.”

Ororo smiled. “I can’t blame you for that, can I? He is talented.”

“He’s the best there is at what he does.” Jean sighed. “We joke about that, but it’s true.”

“I remember. Vividly.”

“Have you ever thought about it? Being with him?”

Ororo slipped an arm around her shoulders and turned them both to face the forest. “I have, especially in the old Australia days, but I never could sort out how it might work, so I kept the thoughts to myself. He knew, of course.”

“Is that why you kissed? He just did it?”

“No, at least once, I initiated it. Our few kisses were more about defying others. They would take, so we would give to each other, to take our choice back. Since those days, I’ve always ended up giving my heart elsewhere. He is a good man, though. I can say it would be a credit to any woman to love him. If she could stand the pace, that is.”

Jean smiled. “The pace, the many vices, and the moods.”

“He’d be a challenge, certainly, but never boring. Of course, you already know he isn’t always as hard a man as he appears to be – not to people he cares for.” Ororo released her and gave her a nudge. “Why don’t you go find him? Talk.”

“I need to talk to Scott, not Logan.”

“Maybe if you started talking with Logan more, Scott might pay attention.”

Jean grinned. “You’re supposed to be an X-Man, one of the good guys.”

Ororo laughed. “I am.”

Jean hugged her and stepped into the cool green shade of the trees. Logan would probably be at the brook. She hoped he wasn’t running wild through the woods.

_What am I going to say? Ororo told me to come? I can’t tell him about my dreams._

She smelled the Cuban cigar before she found him. When she moved through the last line of trees before the brook, she saw him sitting out on the edge of the rock. The impulse to slip away was discarded quickly. He knew she was there. You couldn’t sneak up on the Wolverine.

“Care for some company?” she asked in a whisper.

“Sure, darlin’ – pull up some rock.”  When she sat next to him, he put out the cigar on the stone and slipped it into his hatband. “How’s yer head?”

“Pounding. I took aspirin.”

“Ya gotta practice at drinkin’. Pace it. I’m partly t’ blame, givin’ ya heavy booze after wine. Tha mixin’ll kill ya. Stick with one type o’ sauce fer a smoother hangover.”

“That’s okay – but I’ll remember the advice. So, am I invited again sometime?”

“Anytime.”

“Thanks.”

The silence seemed to close in on them. Logan watched the water. His voice was calm when he spoke. “Had a dream ‘bout ya last night, when I was sittin’ up with ya. Thought ya mighta picked up on it.”

 _Oh, God._  “No, I didn’t.”

“Way ya were watchin’ me when I woke up, I gotta diff’rent impression.” His blue eyes pierced her, and she could feel that he hoped she would give him the truth, but didn’t expect it.

Jean looked away, her head bowed.

“It’s okay, Jeannie; I won’t push ya. We don’t want tha same things, that’s all. I hope he straightens up, does right by ya.”

She looked up at him with her heart pounding in her throat. “I had a dream about you, too. I don’t know how to feel about it, but I want to make things right with Scott. I have to.”

*****************************************************************

“Course ya do. Don’t mean t’ cause ya grief, darlin’.”

His hand rose and touched her cheek. He expected her to speak and move her face away, but she leaned into his light caress. When their eyes met, what he saw in hers took his breath away.

Her hand covered his where it touched her. Her other hand rested on his shoulder. She shifted slightly and brought her lips within a breadth of his. Logan’s heart beat faster.

 _She’s confused, not passionate. Needin’ comfort – but does she want what she seems t’ be askin’ fer?_ “Jeannie – I can’t tell ya no, but be sure. What is it ya want?”

For an instant, she hesitated. He knew if she kissed him then, he’d have to work on finding the strength to stop if she asked him to. Then she backed away. Her hands left him and she clasped them in her lap, staring at them. A blush tinted her cheeks.

The subtle scent of her desire washed over him and drifted away. He was left with the strangling pressure of his own tormented need. Hands clenched into fists, he tried to master himself again.

“I’m so sorry, Logan. I don’t know what I’m doing – and this is wrong.”

“I’m aware, but ya ain’t dead, neither.”

“I don’t mean because of Scott. It’s wrong to do this to you.”

He reached out slowly and took her chin in his fingers, turning her face to look at him. “I didn’t hesitate cuz I wanted t’. If I thought ya could hear it, I could tell ya some things ... but yer feelin’ mixed up an’ lonely, darlin’. I don’t wanna take advantage.”

“You’re not. If anything, I am,” she whispered.

“If ya want me t’ help ya feel better, I’m more’n willin’an’ I make no judgments, won’t hold ya t’ no promises, neither. Just be sure ya want it. All I’d ask is fer ya not t’ turn away when things get better with ‘im. What we got is too precious t’ throw away over guilt or regrets.”

Jean reached out and stroked the thick black mutton chop sideburn that stretched down along his jaw. “You deserve better than ... than...”

“Darlin’, I’m not sure I care.”

“I care. If things were different –”

“They ain’t, Jeannie. This is tha hand we’re dealt – may as well play it.”

She was about to answer when her expression changed to the distant look of a telepath listening to someone’s mental hail.

“We gotta jump in tha name o’ freedom, darlin’?”

“It’s Ororo. Scott and Warren are off on another mission – and they don’t need us. Again.”

Logan smirked. “Now ya look like a woman in need o’ a sparrin’ match.”

“Care to meet me in the Danger Room?” Her smile was fierce.

“Sure, if we play teams against robotic beasties. I’m too smart t’ go one on one against that look, Red.”


	3. Call Up

Things crawl in the darkness  
That imagination spins  
Needles at your nerve ends  
Crawl like spiders on your skin

Pounding in your temples  
And a surge of adrenaline  
Every muscle tense to face the enemy within

I'm not giving in to security under pressure  
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure  
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams  
Experience to extremes  
Experience to extremes

~ The Enemy Within (Rush)

*****************************************************************

They squared off against each other in the hall outside of the kitchen. Jean felt the same tense anticipation she’d often experienced just before a fight against all odds, but in this fight, they were both suited up in the uniform of the X-Men.

“I want you to stay here and keep scanning with Cerebra,” Scott announced in his don’t-argue-with-me tone. It was the way he spoke to the military and police they ran into on missions, and the younger mutants who wore an X, too.

“No. I’m going with you.” She kept her voice firm, but neutral. “Our ranks are depleted enough right now, and I’m not pulling my share lately as it is.”

“It’s not about shares. I need you to scan for other problems. We’ve already got two runs to make. If something else comes in, we’ll need to know where to regroup.”

“Ororo’s staying. She can watch CNN as effectively as I can.”

“She can’t operate Cerebra. While Professor Xavier is in Washington, you’re it.”

“What about Emma?”

“She has to run the school with Hank – which is another point; they could both use your help with that.”

The ruby-quartz lenses of his uniform goggles forever hid his eyes, but Jean could still feel his glare. She stiffened and clenched her fists at her sides in response. For the last two days, she had tried to talk to him. He had dodged her, or worse, ignored her entirely. It would stop now.

“Why are you leaving me out of the missions, Scott? Are you trying to keep me safe, or us apart?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m not trying anything, except to keep this mutant situation under control. I have to use everyone’s abilities to the best advantage. That means I need you to stay. End of discussion.” His arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her.

“I’m not finished.” She took a breath. “There is no controlling this situation. What if it never stops? How can we handle it all? It would take only one well-placed Omega-level mutant enemy to wreck us, the way you keep parceling us out all over the globe. There are too many little fires, Scott, and they’re all spreading. If you don’t step back and get some perspective, you’ll end up torched.”

“This is pointless. The Seattle issue isn’t something you need to be involved in. You’d be overkill there. The Kentucky run is right down Logan’s alley, obviously. Neither should take long. If you’re here, you can contact us all the moment you know where we’re needed next.”

Jean was about to speak, but the sound of the jet starting up stopped her.

Scott looked past her and called out toward the stairs, “Whenever you’re ready, Logan. We’ll drop you over Kentucky.”

He was already turning away. A crushing feeling of helplessness warred with her anger. “Scott!”

Starting to walk away, he didn’t turn back. “What, Jean?”

She had planned to say be careful, or some similar worn-out farewell, but his voice had turned cold, impatient. Words failed her. As she watched her husband head out to the jet through the garage door, his back stiff, no message of goodbye spoken, her fists slowly unclenched. The fingers felt numb.

Jean walked away, forcing herself not to run after him, and stopped short in front of Logan at the foot of the stairs.

 _Great. He heard the whole thing._  “Don’t get singed,” she said. “He’s in a mood.”

“So I noticed. Ya stayin’?”

“Apparently. I don’t think there’s any point in holding up the mission so we can fight in front of our friends.” She sighed. “But if he keeps taking cues from the villain playbook, I’m going to knock him on his X.”

Logan chuckled. “Yeah, I dunno whether t’ goose-step or curtsy these days.”

 

*****************************************************************

“Don’t let them toss you out above one thousand feet,” Jean said, frowning.

“He ain’t bustin’ my chops, so maybe he’ll land tha plane first.”

“Logan, do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“If you need help on this one, call me.”

“Got that urge t’ slice an’ dice again?”

She sidestepped around him. “Just call me.” He was out the door but hadn’t closed it yet when she added, “Be careful, okay?”

“Nothin’ tha ol’ Canucklehead can’t handle, darlin’ – but if I need ya, I’ll shout.”

~ ~ ~

They landed the plane, but he was barely out of it when it rose up vertically again. Darting forward and gaining altitude in seconds, the Blackbird disappeared.

_Feral corn-fed urchins. What’s th_ _a world comin’ t_ _’? This kid’ll probly turn out t_ _’ be autistic with a bubble bath phobia, an_ _’ I’ll be hitchhikin’ from Bowlin’ Green_ _t’ tha Big Apple – or not. Who’s gonna pick up a guy lookin’ like me? Glad these are th_ _a mutant-issue togs_ _– ain’t gonna sacrifice my best cowboy boots t_ _’ tha cause._

Logan walked along the North Entrance Road to the headquarters of the Mammoth Cave National Park. The place was overrun with police and rangers, and the unavoidable curious tourists.

An older ranger spotted him and stepped up. “Sorry, sir, but the park is closed today.”

“Looks pretty busy t’ me. What’s with tha rubberneckers?”

“The police will be clearing them out in a minute, too. Please return to your vehicle. Perhaps if you call ahead, you might be able to visit tomorrow.”

Logan pasted a vaguely disappointed expression on his face and headed off. When the ranger stopped watching him, he slipped into a crowd of onlookers. They were all dressed in thick sweaters or brightly colored windbreakers. His uniform could pass for a Harley biker’s gear, but that didn’t allow him to blend in with this bunch.

He caught the eye of a teen boy who was staring at him. Laying on the yokel tourist act, he tried to sound curious and bored at once. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They found a kid, lost I guess,” he said. His parents turned to look at the newcomer.

“It’s easy to lose your way in these caverns,” the boy’s father added.

“The poor thing... ” The mother held her own daughter closer to her pink jogging pants.

“What’s tha matter with ‘er?” Logan asked.

“She looks just wild,” the father answered. “There, see? They’re taking her into that other building now.”

Logan agreed that the little girl looked wild, but he wasn’t listening after that. When the crowd moved, split, and reformed, he walked away from them.

Getting around the back of the building and finding a convenient door was simple enough. When it turned out to be locked, he popped one claw of his right hand with a ~snikt~ and inserted it into the space between the door and the frame. The adamantium blade sliced through the steel deadbolt like rice paper.

Sorting through the scents in the building was easy, too, and he found the room the child had been placed in within moments. The police could be heard down the hall, arguing about how to proceed; it was a question with a simple answer for Logan. One quick application of his claw, and the second locked door opened for him as easily as the first.

The girl was alone in a room that was barely bigger than a broom closet. She was huddled in the back corner, ignoring the sandwich some enterprising soul had placed on a short stool in the middle of the room. She had been staring at it as he entered, but afterward, she kept her eyes on him. Had she seen him retract his claw?

Her clothing was a mystery. The dress had been expensive, but it was hanging on her in rags, and she was draped in poorly tanned furless skins.

“Ya don’t talk, do ya?” he asked. When she remained silent, Logan took a deep breath, scenting the skins. “Yer poncho’s an unknown beastie. Congratulations, darlin’ – ain’t many outside my experience. Got tha scent o’ a big furry canine-type on ya, too – also a scratch in tha unknown category.” With a smile, he thought,  _Hey, Jeannie, I’m shoutin’, ya listenin’?_

Her thought seemed almost eager.  _I’m here. What do you need?_

_Need a telepath. Use th_ _a back door at th_ _a Mammoth Cave headquarters, then pull a left right left t_ _’ find our door – gray metal, with a picked lock. I’ll be waitin’._

_I’m on my way._

Logan crouched down on the balls of his heavily booted feet. “Cavalry’s comin’.” He smiled at her and she growled. “Ya don’t smell like a mutant t’ me, girl. Might be wearin’ some, though. That’s awright; there’s some I wouldn’t mind wearin’ myself.”

Footsteps and voices drew closer. He edged nearer to the girl and got a better look at her. She was younger than the tourists had been speculating, perhaps six years old.

_That savage look in th_ _a eyes is familiar ‘nuff; seen it in a lot o’ mirrors in my time. Bet ya gotta real Tolstoy tale in store fer Jean t_ _’ untangle, too. We might need_ _t’ liberate ya before comp_ _’ny arrives, though, if we’re gonna hear it all._ _Don’t much feel like explainin’ all th_ _a sliced locks,_ _neither._ _‘Sides, Jean can home in on me anywhere._

Logan moved closer to her, leaning down on his hands in a bestial crouch. She shrank away and growled, but he kept pressing her back into a corner, his own low growl barely audible. When hers broke and became a whine, she crumpled and rolled onto her back, giving him her throat.

Without a second thought, he opened his mouth and closed his fang teeth gently over her chin and nose, held her a moment, and then released her. She rolled back to her feet and jumped up quickly, licking his jaw and under his chin with excited puppy laps of her all-too-human tongue.

He snarled at her sharply once, to stop the obeisant display, and then turned to lead her out. She followed without a sound. Out in the hall, he straightened and turned to face her. His abrupt height cowed her again, but he didn’t have time to reassure the animalistic young mind. Scooping her up in his arms, he strode back out the way he’d come and slipped easily into the woods.

Shelter was at hand along a low hill in the form of a shallow cleft half-concealed by the roots of a fallen ash tree. Logan put the girl down and crawled into the narrow hole in the hillside. Once he was cross-legged and comfortable, he reached to pull his small ward in with him. She settled in his lap without a fuss and fell asleep like a tired pup.

Logan remained alert and listened to the sounds of people searching the woods for their lost charge. When the noises moved off to the east, he rolled his shoulders once and closed his own eyes. It would take Jean a while to reach him if she was flying it solo and if this thing went down the way things usually did, it could be a time before he got another chance to relax. The afternoon sun felt warm on his eyelids, even in the brisk chill of the day. He fell asleep in moments and dreamed of snow.

*****************************************************************

“Is that a proper wolverine burrow?” Jean asked, a smile on her lips.

Logan opened one eye and smiled up at his uniformed teammate. “Hiya, Jeannie. Tha li’l tike needed a nap. Guess it seemed like a good idea.”

He roused the blonde child curled up in his lap. To Jean’s shock, the girl licked at his jaw first before he picked her up and put her on the ground outside of the makeshift den. He came out after her, stood and stretched.

The girl saw Jean and slipped into a crouch behind Logan, her hands clinging to his black leather pants leg.

“What’s going on, Logan?”

“That’s why yer here, Red – t’ tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Let me rephrase the question. Why is this child behaving like a puppy with you for a furry parent?”

“She was like that when we met. Just used a bit o’ canine-speak t’ get ‘er t’ follow my lead is all. Question is, who is she an’ why’s she actin’ this way? Which is yer department.”

~ ~ ~

It took some time to coax the child to trust her, but she would only let Jean touch her if she was close under the protection of Logan.

They sat in a clearing on a bed of brown oak and birch leaves. The child was crumpled in a heap half in Logan’s lap, with Jean gently stroking her dirty blonde hair. Carefully, Jean opened her telepathy and entered the girl’s mind.

The landscape there was vast, white, and empty – cold and dimly lit by an unseen sun behind thick gray clouds. In the distance, a massive black cavern appeared in the side of a mountain, defined by her thoughts as a place of sanctuary. Yet the fear in the child’s mind was focused outward – over the snow.

Jean’s astral image stood beside the girl and looked out over the plains. Something was moving out there – dark bestial shapes. After a moment, it was clear that one of these creatures, whatever they were, had spotted them and was heading their way. Jean reached out to touch it with her thoughts, but cried out in pain.

The feral child growled once and looked frantically around her. Was she searching for Logan? Seeing nothing but the strange red-haired woman, the child turned and ran for the black open mouth of the cavern.

Jean ran after her and caught her up in her arms. The girl fought her madly, shrieking and snarling.

 _This isn’t real, honey,_ she thought.  _It’s a nightmare. You need to wake up now._  Holding the spitting thing was hard, but she forced her to be still and listen.  _What is your name? Show me your name, honey..._ Jean dug deeper, hunting for any human recognition or understanding. One spark of thought almost eluded her, but she followed it down until she found where the name was hiding.  _Wendy... You’re not an animal, Wendy. You’re a human, a person, a little girl. Remember..._ Boring into that hiding place, she found a few atrophied memories – a blonde mother, an older brother who wore a Red Sox baseball cap.  _There is your mother, Wendy. She must be terribly afraid for you, and wants to find you again. She loves you very much, Wendy. You have to come back to her now. Come, follow me, I’ll help you out of this place._

The child’s mind spoke at last.  _It’s coming to hurt us!_  She pointed over Jean’s shoulder.

Jean turned to look just in time to launch them both into the air with her telekinesis.

A large black and gray furry shape passed under their feet, carried along in a violent charge that would have run them down. It turned in a skid on the powdered snow and roared. The wide, brutish face looked like a demon-dog, with tiny red eyes and triple rows of vicious needle-thin teeth in a heavy set of crushing jaws. It had wide paws with talon-tipped toes.

Gathering itself to spring up at them, it let out a long deep-throated howl. To Jean’s horror, several other creatures answered. Some of them were not very far away.

_Wendy, listen to me. I’m going to take us out of here. When I do, you’ll be able to remember who you are._

_Where is he?_

_Who?_

_The strong one_ _, he’ll protect us!_

_You could only mean Logan, I guess. I’m going to take you to him, okay?_

She nodded and tightened her grip on Jean’s jacket sleeves.

 _Here we go!_  Jean shot high into the freezing atmosphere, the scream of the child echoing in her ears.

She had to fight against the strange mental world to escape its hold on her own psyche, but at last they both broke free. There was a sensation of falling, and then she opened her eyes with a shock.

None of them had physically moved. Jean tried to orient her mind. She hadn’t fallen. There were no demon animals leaping for her, there was no snow.

“Ya okay, Jeannie?”

She put a palm up to her forehead. “I think so. Is Wendy all right?”

“Wendy, huh? What, no Peter Pan?”

Jean opened her eyes and saw the little girl staring from her to Logan and back again. She smiled. “Hi Wendy. I’m Jean. This is Logan. We’re going to help you find your mother and brother, okay?”

The child looked confused, but sane. She nodded slowly. Turning to Logan, she stared at him for a long moment. “Are you going to kill the bear-dogs?”

Logan stood and swung Wendy up in his arms. “How ‘bout we find yer mother first? Then, if it makes ya feel safer, I’ll go hunt yer bear-dogs.”

~ ~ ~  
Jean waved to the tearful mother as the car drove away to the police station. Wendy had been missing for three days, after getting separated from her family and becoming lost in the woods. The mother and her twelve-year-old son had been staying at a hotel as they worked with local police to find Wendy.

Logan was talking to the police a few feet away, giving them his official story of going for a nature walk and finding the lost little girl who had escaped them earlier. The radical change in her mental condition had them all stumped, but maybe they’d be too relieved to have the child found and healthy to worry about the details.

She watched as one of the policemen folded the odd leather garment the child had worn over her ragged dress into an evidence bag. Wendy had no memory of how she’d come to be wearing the thing, and had gratefully shed it for the warm blanket offered by a policewoman.

When they all turned away from Logan and went to their squad cars, he headed back to her.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Case closed?”

“Ya don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t, but I have no idea what happened to her either. Could something in the Mammoth Cave affect her?”

“Not sure. ‘Sides, she was lost in tha woods, not tha caverns.”

“I know, but in her nightmare, her fantasy – or whatever it was – the Mammoth Cave was there. The woods weren’t in the picture at all. It was a mountain with the big black hole in it. A lot of snow, for miles around, and her bear-dogs – that was it, although the caverns actually seemed to be a safe place, in her perception.”

“I’d like a look ‘round both – woods an’ caverns. The cops said she was in tha underground tunnels, an’ that she wandered away from her family down there. All tha paths are pretty well marked on tha tourist trails. She musta just followed ‘em back up an’ gone int’ tha woods.”

“Her mother did say that Wendy is claustrophobic. They were taking this trip to try and get her over her fear.”

“Maybe she changed ‘er mind.”

“Then why not tell her mother she wanted to quit?”

“No idea, Jeannie. Ya thinkin’ somethin’ turned ‘er feral on purpose?”

“It would make more sense than it just happening all of sudden to a perfectly normal little girl. That was a whole different world in her head, and a child her age might dream up a monster like that bear-dog thing, but she couldn’t make it a real coat.”

“Well ‘er coat wasn’t a bear-dog skin. Wrong scent, though she had their scent on ‘er.

Skins smelled like mutants t’ me.”

“What? That’s crazy. That little girl couldn’t be a killer.”

“I agree, but she ain’t exactly tha Jeremiah Johnson type, neither. So who did tha skinnin’? I’m up fer a sniff-‘round, at least.” Logan smiled. “Ya love a mystery. Wanna come along? If there is a big nasty lurkin’, ya could work out yer domestic aggressions.”

“Nothing would make you happier than finding some hideous creature you had to fight to the bloody steaming death, would it?”

“It’d make tha trip worthwhile.”

“You and your hunt for violent adventures.”

“Experience t’ extremes, Jeannie – it’s what keeps me sharp.” He grinned at her. “So ... ya up fer it?”

“Oh, I’m up for it. Or my domestic aggression is, anyway.”

Logan laughed. He pulled a fresh cigar and matchbook out of his jacket and headed for the entrance of the Mammoth Cave.

“I don’t think they let you smoke in there.”

“They’re closin’ soon, so they won’t know I gotta stogie lit, will they? Let’s hit it, Red.”

*****************************************************************

They passed through the front portion of the caverns that had lent the place its name, and headed off into Audubon Avenue, one of the main tunnel trails that led deeper underground. Logan could have gotten them past the authorities without being seen, but with Jean along, stealth was unnecessary. She merely stuck the idea in people’s heads that they were allowed to enter after the caverns had been closed.

As they walked on, Jean held a flashlight she’d convinced one of the rangers to lend her. The beam of light interfered with Logan’s night vision, but he wanted to walk beside the statuesque redhead, so he dealt with it.

Jean ranged her spot of light along the walls for a moment before shining it forward again. “What’s the plan if we don’t find anything down here?” she asked. “You must have checked out some of the area topside already, or you wouldn’t have been napping.”

“‘Nuff t’ know it was safe t’ nap, anyhow.” He puffed on his cigar. “If nothin’s down here, I’ll give tha trees a more thorough sweep; addin’ yer input on any hostile mental sigs t’ tha mix, we should be covered. If we get an ‘all clear’, it’ll be time fer a brew.”

“Not for me. I had enough that other night to last a good while.”

Logan chuckled. “Then I’ll drink yers an’ we’ll get ya a root beer.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~ ~ ~

There was plenty of underground maze to go when Jean called a halt. Logan had eventually ranged ahead of her far enough to get beyond the flashlight beam, so he turned back and rejoined her. He blinked fast once when she swept the light across his face and away.

“Sorry. I wanted to be sure all the echoes were still you.”

“Just makin’ ‘em so ya can place me, darlin’; if ya prefer I didn’t, I can oblige. It’d be sure proof that any pitter-pats are a bad guy.”

“Or a bat.” Jean aimed the light between her boots. “Your eyes turn red when the light hits them.”

Logan didn’t answer. Her voice had taken on that tone of uneasiness it often did when she was feeling unsure or nervous. He knew his animalistic qualities unsettled her, and saw little point in discussing them. Sighing, he asked, “Ya gettin’ any hints o’ a villainous resident?”

“Not a one. Sometimes there’s a residual impression, of general thought signature, but it’s too faint to be real. It’s probably a collective saturation in the stone from all of the people passing through here every day.”

“No sniffs o’ hostiles, neither. People, from t’day an’ before, an’ yer bats – but nothin’ more dangerous than a cricket. Wanna call it? We can go runnin’ through tha woods on tha way t’ a suitable waterin’ hole.”

“It’s technically your mission, but I’m ready for fresh air.”

“Ya got tha higher leadership creds, Jeannie.” He started up their trail again, and she fell into step beside him.

“Hardly – you’ve led the X-Men more than I have. Rogue still brags on your style. I botched things too much in Genosha, too... Some people aren’t cut out for the top spot under pressure. You’re a natural leader. Plus, how many years did you run covert ops before we stole you away from your government?”

“I’m always happy t’ leave it t’ leveler heads than mine. When tha claws come out, it’s too easy t’ forget everythin’ else – an’ everyone else, too. ‘Sides, if I sit on my inner beast an’ try t’ play soldiers, it’s a lot less fun fer me.”

“Why do you enjoy fighting like that?”

“Anyone enjoys doin’ what they’re best at. I recall ya bein’ pretty miserable when yer talents were on tha blink a few times.”

“My ‘talents’ are like breathing, but using them to fight isn’t what I live for. Having nothing left to fight – having peace – that would make me happy.”

“Not me.”

“Why? What’s all the Zen Buddhist meditation for, then? Come on, Logan – wouldn’t you rather kick back in a world that doesn’t hate and fear you? Take a stab at a normal life?”

“I’ll never have a normal life. It’s not in tha cards,” Logan answered, a growl riding his words.

He didn’t bother to wonder why the question angered him, or notice when his response made her pause. He left the caverns and started walking toward the trees when her voice stopped him.

“Logan, wait... ”

He turned. She was leaning against the edge of the stone, hugging herself as if she were cold. Her vulnerability and confusion shone brightly in her emerald eyes.

“Ah, hell, Jeannie – just tell me t’ take a flyin’ leap when I act like that.”

A slight smile started on her lips. “I’m used to you acting like that.”

“Yer diff’rent.” He crushed his cigar stub into the white sand full of cigarette butts over a trash bin. “Look, I’ll take a stroll ‘round tha shrubbery an’ cool off, an’ then we can get outta here an’ I’ll buy ya that soda. Maybe ya can convince me that kickin’ back ain’t so bad.”

 

“I’ll take my best shot.”

Logan smiled and headed for the trees. “An’ Jeannie?” He glanced back over his shoulder at her.

“Yes?”

“Next time I treat ya like that, knock me on my X.” He winked at her and disappeared between the trees.

“Count on it,” she called after him.

~ ~ ~

 _Tha lady just wants t’ relax, have ‘er normal life – with ‘er husband, who probly ain’t quite as eager t’ sit ‘round an’ play house._  Logan crouched down, one hand in the leaves, and sniffed the air.  _Jean, darlin’, ya don’t understand but I can’t explain, cuz it’s not what ya wanna hear. So if yer listenin’, I – ah, hell – I’m just sorry, that’s all._

The wind changed directions slowly, and Logan scented it as it turned. All was clear, normal and peaceful, except for one thing.

 _Now that’s interestin’,_  he thought.  _‘Nother human that reeks o’ bear-dog musk. Come out, come out wherever ya are … an’ step up tha hostile action, would ya? I need t’ blow off some steam._

A strange sensation washed over him, like the needle-prick feeling when a body part wakes up after going numb. A headache tried to start, but his healing factor negated it within seconds. All that was left was the gossamer feeling of walking through spider webs – in his mind.

The temperature dropped so abruptly that he swore out loud.  _I know Iceman ain’t in this burg – an’ no whiff o’ Stormy. What gives?_  He stood and looked through the trees, a growl starting in the back of his throat – and then the trees were gone.  _Bloody hell! Jeannie, ya gettin’ this?_

_Logan, where are you? There’s something out there; it’s right on top of you!_

He reached out with every heightened sense he possessed.  _There’s nothin’ there. Includin’ what should be._

_Move!_

Responding to the fear in her mental shout, Logan leaped to his left. He sensed nothing, but then felt the dimmest flicker of something passing him at speed. He popped all six of his foot-long adamantium claws at once and fell into a fighting stance.

Then his eyes opened wide. The landscape was changing again, all around him. A thick plain of snow swallowed up the cleared ground, and the sky turned gray and overcast. The hills merged and grew, forming the only break in the flatlands of snow – a massive and forbidding black mountain. Low in its face was the wide ugly slash of a mouth, where echoes and darkness reigned. A healthy fear and an unreasoning rage crowded into his heart at once.

_Logan! Logan, come back to me! Now!_

He wanted to stay, to fight! Then the voice of the female cried out to him again. She was afraid, in need of help – under attack? He turned, snarling, and loped back along his own trail in the snow, to the dark mountain that marred the white haze. The female stood at the cavern’s mouth. She was safe, but her scent was spiced with fear.

The enemy didn’t follow. He crouched at the side of the female and watched the vast plain as the snow began to fall again.

“Logan, are you all right? What was it? What’s out there?”

He bared his teeth at the building snowstorm. Far in the distance, he picked out the black and gray shapes. They were entering his territory, threatening his den, his mate. Throwing his head back, he let out a howl – a challenge.


	4. Snow Blind

He can turn himself into a stranger  
Well they broke a lot of canes on his hide  
he was born away in a cornfield  
A fever beats in his head like a drum inside  
There are those who say beneath his coat  
there are wings  
Some say they fear him  
Others admire him  
Because he steals his promise  
One look in his eye  
Everyone denies  
Ever having met him

~ Black Wings, (Tom Waits)

*****************************************************************

 _Logan, please hear me..._  Her fingers hesitated to touch his shoulder.

Crouched at the edge of the caverns, he glared out into the swirling blizzard that had enveloped them with shocking speed from the clear autumn sky. His low thrumming growl mixed with the sound of the storm.

Logan’s behavior had stunned her, but touching his thoughts was frightening. In moments, as the world changed, he had been turned into an inhuman beast. The deadly adamantium claws were extended and ready, and no civilized mind controlled them.

 _What can I do?_  She turned and startled again. The massive front cavern behind her had changed, too.

All evidence of human settlement, tourism, anything – had disappeared. No picnic tables, no gift shop, no concession stand. Not one sign marked the walls or the entrances of the main tunnels. As the snow began to drift across the stone floor, she saw that all the refuse of the day, including bits of litter she’d noted ten minutes ago around the place where she stood, was gone. The area the locals called Broadway looked pristine, uncharted – almost prehistoric.

_If Wendy was outside this cave when she was turned into – a beast – then what changed her has to be the same thing that attacked Logan. This place is identical to what I saw in her mind, too, but I’m not inside anyone’s mind now – this is real. Could it be someone with abilities like Ororo? Manipulating the weather doesn’t make forests disappear, though, or turn people into animals – and I’m not changed. Why?_

Jean tried to calm herself and think things through. When Logan turned from the entrance, he stood straight slowly and approached her. The growl stopped. Yet Jean’s hope died when he bent his head to stroke her shoulder briefly, dog-like, before moving back into the cave, sniffing as he went.

 _Logan, damn it, I need you._  She would have to try to bring him back like Wendy, but the prospect wasn’t pleasant. There was a lot of dangerous and confusing stuff in his head, unlike the mind of the innocent six-year-old.  _Desperate needs and desperate measures, Dr. Grey – you have no choice. At least he seems to recognize me as a friend. Maybe I can root around in his head without getting skewered._

She walked up to him and screamed when he turned on her, claws bristling, but his maddened blue eyes were focused beyond her. Turning quickly out of his way, she saw it – dark gray with black guard hairs and brindle stripes, the bear-dog was slinking up to the cave. Jaws dripping saliva, it snarled at them.

Beside her, Logan’s growl erupted again. She jumped back as he shot forward, straight into a rolling tussle with the ugly creature. The snow was stained red in an instant.

Jean rushed to the entrance to watch them, horrified.  _It can’t hurt him,_  she tried to reassure herself, h _is healing factor will see to that – but what does it take to kill a bear-dog?_

The noise of the fight was hideous. The thing gibbered and roared as it tore the black leather uniform Logan wore into strips – but he was carving the bear-dog’s flesh just as effectively.

Jean winced to see massive wounds gouged into her friend’s body, but they healed before she could look away.

 _Is it just one? In Wendy’s mind, it called for others._  She scanned the white-gray snowstorm outside for other animal minds, but sensed none.  _Well, can I help Logan with this one?_

As she turned to look at the combatants, she realized that he didn’t need it. His face lit with a fierce hatred, Logan reared back with his arms held open wide. The bear-dog took what it thought was an opening, and lunged to gash his abdomen with its razor-cluster of needle teeth.

Logan brought his arms together again, hands in fists, claws dripping blood. He crossed them over his chest as the claws went through the bulk of the animal’s body. It fell at his feet in two large halves and a splatter of gore.

His wrists forming an X under his chin, breath panting, his eyes lifted to stare at Jean. There was no humanity in them.

*****************************************************************

The rival was dead, the den safe. He watched his mate for a moment, and then turned to face the storm. He tilted his head back and howled his victory into the wind. Other voices lifted in the distance, answering him. Assenting that the den and female were his? Or would another attempt a challenge?

He watched the storm, scenting the air, until night began to fall; a moment afterward, the scent of his mate came closer, her footfalls soft.

“Logan? Can you understand me at all?”

He turned to look at her. She shuddered in the cold. The sounds she made couldn’t tell him what she needed, but her body language spoke clearly. Warmth. Shelter.

Leaving the carcass at the entrance as a warning, he stalked away to one of the dark tunnels that led to shelter. He retracted his claws as he went, licking the blood of the enemy from the skin where they had been.

The female didn’t follow immediately. He growled a short warning to her once before she approached. Her inability to see in the tunnel was obvious in the heightened fear-scent she exuded. He moved slowly, making soft sounds as he went to allow her to follow more easily.

The scent of others was old, and he found an abandoned inner den quickly. It wasn’t far from the open air, but deep enough to be out of the wind.

At the back of the cave, he found the pile of furs he’d smelled from the tunnel. Giving them a quick sniff up close, he burrowed into them.

“Where are you? Logan?”

The female groped in the darkness. He rose up and pulled her into the furs at his side. She had cried out as she fell, but lay quietly now, and a little stiffly. He didn’t need that to tell him she wasn’t in season yet, but she was cold.

He used his own body heat and the furs to warm her, nuzzling at her neck to reassure her. When he grew still, she began to relax against him and the fear scent subsided.

*****************************************************************

Jean remained quiet and still, lying in the dark beside Logan. He appeared to be asleep, but no human thoughts were detectable in his surface mind. Her pride stinging, she used her telepathy to reach out to the X-Men, telling herself there was no shame in asking for help.

After a moment or two, she realized that she was sensing nothing, even at a vast distance. Switching to seeking out the telepathic X-Man Emma Frost yielded no response, either.

 _Charles, then,_  she thought. One Omega-level telepath to another, they should be able to contact each other no matter how far apart they were physically.  _Charles, where are you?_  Only silence answered her, a void of emptiness seeming to stretch around her mind in all directions.  _What is wrong with me? Focus, hone it, push it to the limits; they’re out there somewhere!_

She began to sweat with the effort, a headache blooming to muddle her efforts. Gasping, she felt something else move inside her mind, her soul – horribly familiar, and terrifying.

 _The Phoenix Force! Yet it feels ... wrong, fractured ... or is it just growing more powerful than I’ve ever felt before?_  Memories and nightmares leered at her from her shifting thoughts.  _Oh, God, no ... what if the Dark Phoenix is attempting to take over my mind again?_  Steeped in fear, she broke off her attempt to communicate with the others.

At her side, pressed close, the beast Wolverine stirred, perhaps sensing her fear. Forcing her breathing to slow, she waited until her pulse calmed and her mind cleared. Logan settled closer, and with a snort of breath, went still once more.

 _Okay, if asking for outside help isn’t an option right now, I’ll get some inner help by working Logan’s mind back to me._  Acutely aware that she had always left this sort of probing to Charles in the past out of fear, even when she followed his lead and tried to learn, she had little choice but to do it alone now. Taking a deep breath, she tried to bolster her nerve for what she had to do.  _Carefully, Dr. Grey. You don’t know if his mind will perceive you as an enemy or not – but now is obviously the time. Now or never, in fact, before he wakes up and starts getting frisky again._

She entered Logan’s mind as delicately as she could. Prepared to find a strange mental landscape, as it always had been, she was surprised to find herself in the same snow-bound world she had entered before in the child’s psyche, with the black mountain at her shoulder.

Logan’s astral image was ahead of her some distance across the white plain. His movements were bestial, and he didn’t acknowledge her presence.

_Why doesn’t he know I’m here?_

Then she frowned as she realized she was standing in a dream he was experiencing as he slept. She’d have to find her way out of it to enter the pathways of his mind and try to bring his humanity back to her.

_His name won’t help me, though. I suspect it’s not as integral to his psyche as he’d like to believe. He’d hate this, too – having a telepath stomping through the deep end of his private mind. How different is it from what the bastards at the Weapon X project did to him? Well, I won’t change, alter, or suppress memories. I just want to find the man I know and help him out of this feral regression. Maybe it will count for something that it’s me..._

She searched for a way to slice through the fabric of the dream, but the misgivings that Logan would oppose her actions persisted.

Whenever she touched people in daily life with this gift, she remained in the area she considered the “surface mind”. All manner of thoughts and emotions were easily picked up there, but no deeper secrets were compromised.

Xavier had taught her the trick when she was a child, given her a valuable sense of others’ privacy and a reluctance to violate it. It was the only way to live in harmony with people who knew you were a telepath, and the only way to gain their trust, too.

Also, many people, mutant or otherwise, could feel the trespass of a telepath. Some just reacted badly, others took violent offense. The ones who didn’t know how to attack you mentally might still punch you when they got the chance.

Did Logan always know when she was scanning his surface thoughts? Or did he just assume she would, and didn’t fret much about what she might find there, whether he sensed her touch or not? Either way, he’d never seemed to mind. This wasn’t going to be that simple, of course – if she could escape the dream.

Movement in the distance distracted her.  _Distance. That’s not distance, Dr. Grey, this is a dream. You can’t get out of it if you start believing it’s real._ Real or not, the image of Logan coming at her, fast and vicious, was hard to dismiss as a figment of a dream.  _Oh, God, what should I do? Why is he charging at me? Why is he nude!_ She shook her head and stood her ground.  _It’s a dream. He sees something else, and I’m in the same line of sight._   _He’ll pass through me like a ghost and keep after it, whatever it is._

The silence was broken by a single menacing ~snikt~ sound. She watched his claws pop, saw the silver glints in the snow reflected in blades that could carve steel. His expression wasn’t the hateful mask he wore when attacking an enemy – it was the hunger and hunting lust of a beast after prey.

 _It’s not solid, it’s a dream image. He’ll pass through me_.

Her body began to tremble as she tried to stand firm, but when a deafening roar exploded from him, she bolted and ran before she even knew she’d moved.

_Logan, it’s Jean! Stop!_

She dodged once, like a rabbit, but he turned faster than she could run and was on her heels again. The claws, swiping at her, left a shorn lock of red hair drifting on the snow in their wake.

Trying to gain enough space to dodge again, she turned in time to see him leap at her. Jean screamed. His weight hit her hard and they tumbled into the snow. The claws blocked out the sky – and then he went still, staring at her through the blades.

_Thank God... Logan ... it’s me. It’s Jean._

With a loud ~snakt~, the claws disappeared. He leaned in close, sniffed at her hair, and let his growl die. She was about to speak again when he shocked her, his hand abruptly stroking her between the legs, over the leather uniform pants. No gentle touch, it was more like the unnerving sniffing than anything human.

Unless she used telekinesis against him, there was no stopping it but she found herself slow to resist, and in the next moment she was responding ardently. Her hands ran down his forearms, and then moved to touch his chest.

He rose up off of her and rolled her onto her stomach with one hand like a wolf batting its kill. His weight came down against her back, and she felt him scenting her hair again.

Reason tried to reclaim her.  _Logan, I can’t..._  He didn’t notice her change of mood, and he wasn’t releasing her. She’d always believed he would stop, even if her own stupid crossed signals turned him inside out.  _Logan ... please ... let me up._

Jean felt his hips thrust tentatively, pressing a stunning hardness against the unyielding leather of her clothing. His hands gripped her arms, almost tight enough to hurt. She felt her panic start to rise. Her telekinetic gift lashed inside her, ready to throw him bodily from her, to crush him if she had to.

 _No! I can’t hurt him!_ She made herself focus and calm down. _You’re in his mind, you fool. Stop playing along with rampant wet dreams and communicate with him, bring him back!_  She pressed, frantically and more forcefully than she intended, beyond the superficies of his surface mind. The action did not break the dream, but a new connection with his mind was abruptly there.

_Ready?_

_Logan!_  Yet the mental signature was too primitive. Who or what was she talking to?

_Ready now?_

_For what? I don’t understand you._

_Ready … mate._ He sniffed at her shoulder, drawing in a deep breath.

_Oh my God. This is definitely not the time for mixed signals..._

She didn’t attempt to answer him, or to struggle. She unplugged her astral self from his mind, broke the telepathic connection, and escaped the dream.

“I have to stop doing that,” she whispered.

~Snikt~

Jean drew her breath in sharply, her body stiffening at that sound. They lay in the dark of the underground cave on a pile of furs warmed by their own body heat – but their positions were exactly as they had been in his dream.

She heard leather tear behind her. Before she could react, she felt a single adamantium blade slice the back of her pants open, barely missing her flesh. In the act of calling up her telekinesis in a panic, she felt his hard cock impale her from behind.

Jean lay there in shock, breathless and frozen, her defenses forgotten. Her hands knotted into fists on the furs in front of her face, but she couldn’t see them. A hot, shamed flush bloomed on her face as Logan thrust easily and powerfully in her body’s slick and eager response.

 _No! No ... Scott... God, Scott – I’m so sorry..._ Mercilessly, the realization hit her, _Logan is going to remember this when I can pull his humanity back into place._ The pain and torment she knew he’d feel, with remorse equal to hers, would wound him beyond healing. _It’s my fault, Logan – you’re ruled by your senses in this state, and my body told you I wanted this._ Tears slipped down her cheeks in the darkness.  _God help me, I did – and I do._

*****************************************************************

The surprise of her heat pleased him. He had accepted that she could be strange, and that she sometimes feared him, but the release of the mating bonded them again. The scent of deer haunted his senses, and he buried his muzzle in her mane to breathe in her essence. Before morning, he would hunt meat for her.

Small sounds she made were almost like the whimpers of a pup. He knew she was young. When she started to shift, he closed his mouth on the nape of her neck to still her. Gentle as a sire to a pup, he kept his fangs from piercing her.

The thrusting ecstasy grew, and soon, she began to make low noises of pleasure. The hints of her pheromones earlier came on stronger, and the heady scent of it intoxicated him more than the blood of a kill. When it was over and they were still, he released her neck and settled at her side again.

“Logan? Are you still... Logan, I need to get some air.”

She started to leave the furs, but he reached out and held her down. Blind in the dark caverns, she could fall prey to the others if she wandered alone. He would have to watch her carefully until she became too heavy to leave the den. Settling enough of his weight on her to hold her, he surrendered to sleep.

~ ~ ~

He’d been dreaming of snow again, and of Jean. The cave he smelled around them now wasn’t cold, and the smooth loose leather at her hip was warm under his hand. Self-conscious before he could even fully wake up, he moved the hand to her shoulder.

Gropin’ tha lady in ‘er sleep – not tha best way t’ earn ‘er trust in a survival situation, bub. A sensory memory made him stiffen. Loose leather. Uniform pants are tight – someone’s idea o’ a Vogue joke. She didn’t shuck ‘er britches? He shifted his weight slightly and then froze. I know I didn’t shuck mine. What gives? Tentative fingers found his pants open – one inch to the left of the zipper, clean as a claw cut. Fuck. What tha hell did I do?

He got up swiftly and settled again across the small cave from his teammate, unsure if she was asleep or not. Two facts were disturbingly obvious – the slice in his mutant-issue crotch was engineered perfectly for only one function, and the lingering scent of Jean’s pheromones was all over him.

Memory was as stubborn as always. He wracked his mind for events, but nothing came clear. The flotsam remains were enough to make him wince.

An impulse to wake her and make sure she was unhurt fought with a strong desire to leave her alone. If the pieces of recollection added up the way he feared, she might not want to look at him any time soon.

Logan fished one of the smaller furs from the edge of the pile and popped a single claw from his right hand. A few moments of cutting skill and he had a handful of thick rawhide strips. Piercing holes along the rent with the claw, he used two of the strips to tie his pants closed.

He didn’t bother trying to patch or lace the rest of the damage, which was obviously made by something else – bear-dog, judging by the other smell that clung to him. The leathers and his skin were stained with dried blood. Plenty of it had dried stiff in the dark thick hair of his torso, arms, and shoulders. The jacket and shirt were rags, barely held by their seams, but the pants would serve, for now.

Leaving the other strips at the foot of the bedding pile where Jean could find them, he stood and turned to leave the cave.

“Don’t go,” Jean whispered.

“Gotta get some air, darlin’.”

“Logan, you’re you! You’re back!” She sat up with a look of relief on her face. He could see her in the dark cavern with his mutant eyes’ enhanced vision, and saw her hopeful expression change to shame as she looked away from him, feeling his gaze and knowing he could see her.

“Jean – Jeannie – please tell me I didn’t hurt ya.”

“You didn’t.”

“But I remember –”

“I know. I mean – I knew you would, but you were out of your head. It’s okay.”

“Tha hell it is!” His hands clenched into fists. Agony for what he’d done to her washed through him, burning him with shame and horror. “Don’t take that on yer shoulders like it’s yer fault. That’s bullshit.”

“It was. I did – what I always do, at least since Scott started pretending I don’t exist. I led you into it. I didn’t mean to, but I ... did.”

“No, Jeannie. There’s no excuse. Only a mindless animal –”

“You were a mindless animal.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s – why it happened. I was in your mind, trying to help you back like that little girl, but I got stuck in your dream and couldn’t ... keep my – whatever that is – in check. I made you want to, and it’s my fault.”

He couldn’t speak. Had he been dreaming of it? The imagery of Jean beneath him, letting him touch her, responding to him, drifted into his mind. He didn’t know which emotion was stronger, anger or disgust, but they were both directed at himself. She had asked him to stop. He remembered that abruptly, and all too clearly. He started to go again, unable to face her.

“Don’t leave, Logan, please.”

“Can’t stay – can’t... I’ll be back. Just gonna get some distance.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I can take anythin’ this place can throw, furry or not.”

“You’ll go feral again. Something has to be out there, making you regress like that. I guess your healing factor brought you back, but I need you coherent and sane. We have to figure this out, bring it down. We can’t do it with you – like that.”

Logan hung his head. The abrupt silence between them strangled him, but she was right – he couldn’t risk that again. He returned to the spot across from her and sat quietly, leaning his back against the rough stone wall. Time crawled by. He laid his head against the limestone and closed his eyes.

“I can’t reach anyone, either, not even Charles. I still have a headache from trying. Are you cold?” she whispered.

“Don’t feel it tha same; ‘sides, I’m furry. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“I do. I can’t help it.”

“We’d better beat this baddie quick, Red, or we’ll have worse problems.”

“Hard to imagine.” She sighed. “Like what?”

“Like water an’ food. I can get us both, but tha market’s outside.” He lifted his head and stared toward the cave mouth. “What’s more, I think we got comp’ny.”

“More of those monstrous brutes?”

“Don’t feel qualified t’ make that judgment just yet, but they ain’t bear-dogs. They’re talkin’.”

He heard her move, but he still twitched when she touched his knee. “Maybe I could shield your mind, if the regression isn’t too strong. We have to check out the newcomers, anyway. Friend or foe, they could be in need of help.”

“Back t’ tha ‘help those who hate an’ fear us’ rap?”

“We are still on the clock. Uh, first though, I need to do something about...”

“I made leather strips – piled at tha foot o’ tha furs. Makes a decent lace up.”

“Maybe I’ll go for the loincloth look, but I can’t see a thing.”

“My stogies an’ matches are topside, somewhere.”

“No lighter? Any good mutant Boy Scout shouldn’t be caught without one.”

“Messes up tha flavor.” Logan stood and went to the entrance. Keeping his back to her, he leaned against their gritty doorway.

“I don’t mean to be flippant,” she whispered. “Can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Lots o’ my memories are skittish, Red; that one’s workin’ on stickin’ ‘round.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too, darlin’.” He took a deep breath. “When yer ready, we’ll go upstairs an’ meet tha new neighbors; ‘til then, I’m gonna go wait fer ya in tha tunnel.”

“Logan –”

“We can’t change it, Jeannie – but I’d rather not discuss it, neither.” He sighed. “When ya come out, put yer hand on tha wall at yer right an’ it’ll lead ya t’ me.”

_She was silent and he walked away from her without another word._


	5. Lament for the Lost

The direction of the eye, so misleading  
The defection of the soul, nauseously quick  
I don’t question, our existence  
I just question, our modern needs  
After all is done, and we’re still alone  
I won’t be taken, yet I’ll go ... with my hands bound  
I will walk ... with my face blood  
I will walk ... with my shadow flag  
Into your garden, garden of stone

~ Garden (Pearl Jam)

*****************************************************************

Telekinesis wasn’t the most precise seamstress tool, but she ended up with a short furred skirt that covered the opened slice in her clothes, but still allowed freedom of movement. She deeply regretted the veto on Gambit’s idea of trench coats for their uniforms.

The first thing she noticed via groping touch when she rejoined Logan was that he still wore his black t-shirt and jacket, though both hung from his shoulders in ragged strips. She couldn’t see him, and the pitch darkness was starting to unnerve her, but her fingers gripped a handful of his jacket shreds as she followed him up the tunnel.

_In spite of last night, I couldn’t be stuck in this mess with a better companion. I can’t hear our company yet, but Logan knew they were there right away, even down in the dark, and unpleasantly distracted. He never turns off those hyper-senses. I’d probably sit around analyzing our problems to death until a bear-dog started nibbling on my toes. I’ll have to work on staying alert. I won’t get a second chance if I get bit by a mouth full of needle teeth._

Jean didn’t know what she had expected, but her first sight of the others in the dim light of early morning stunned her to silence. Logan had stopped and she stepped up to stand at his side.

“It’s tha mink jockstrap union,” Logan commented. “Looks like their press gang.”

“They aren’t new arrivals, obviously – unless Kentucky has a Neanderthal Festival. Of course, this might not even be Kentucky anymore.”

“An’ me without my ruby slippers.”

They were human, three men and one woman. All of them were wearing various furry skins that hadn’t been cured well, if the smell was any indication. She scanned them and found nothing but brutal survival drives in their minds.

“What’s tha verdict, Red? They need Hooked on Phonics?”

“At least. There’s nothing human left in their minds. You heard them talking?”

“That’s up t’ interpretation. I heard voices. More o’ a ‘grunt in C minor’ thing.”

“They must have been yanked into this like we were, just sooner.”

“A lot sooner.” Logan wrinkled his nose.

“We have to help them.”

“Natch. How?”

“If I can give them their identities back, maybe one of them could tell us something about how this happened.” She started to walk forward, but Logan grabbed her shoulder and held her back.

“Careful,” he whispered as the biggest of the males sniffed at them and growled. “Tha scents were old, but I think we’re squattin’. They may not wanna be helped as much as they’d like t’ bash our heads in with a jawbone.”

“Ideas?”

“Hang back. Work yer mojo at a safe distance. If any o’ these boys wanna throw down, I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t hurt them.”

“Cramps my style a bit, but I’ll aim fer that. If they push it, I’m not lettin’ ‘em through t’ ya.”

“I’m not helpless. Keep the claws in.”

Logan frowned, but nodded, moving ahead of her by several steps. He faced off with them on opposite sides of last night’s bloody mess, at the edge of the cavern mouth. She abruptly noticed to her shock that Logan himself was covered with dried blood. With a shake of her head, she took a breath to calm herself and concentrate.

Jean tried to focus on the lead caveman first, but his mind was a violent storm that instantly fought her intrusion. Skipping to his cohorts, one by one, she found the same resistance, if less violence. Their minds manifested the same bleak winter scene Logan’s and Wendy’s had, but there was no sense of a presence in them. If their names were buried somewhere, she would need more time, and less opposition, to find them.

She broke her telepathic connection with the woman last, and found a prehistoric pantomime going on in front of her.

The sounds the leader made could be called talking, she supposed. It was obviously intended to be communication, but it was like a man making animal sounds to amuse a child.

When he gestured to the bear-dog carcass, Logan responded by making a sound that didn’t seem human at all. Jean deciphered the body language and guessed that the others were shocked that Logan had killed the monster.

After more pantomime, the big man abruptly grabbed one of the stiff paws of the front half of the remains and began dragging it off to one side of the cavern. The two smaller men hauled the lighter hindquarters after him.

The woman stared at Logan for a long time. She only shuffled off after her companions when the leader snarled at her in his childish-sounding ferocity.

“So – that was like watching Italian opera without a program. What’s up?”

“My own charmin’ odor convinced ‘em I took out tha beastie. Got tha impression they thought it couldn’t be done. Made a gift o’ stinky in return fer tha digs we acquired without askin’.”

“Talk about something for nothing. What do they want with it? The fur?”

“Fur, bones, meat ... everythin’.”

“Ugh. I thought you weren’t supposed to eat carnivores?”

“‘Sposed t’?” Logan’s lips started a slow smile. “Place like this, ya eat whatever doesn’t eat ya first.” He glanced over at the others. “No dice, huh?”

“No marbles. If they’re in there, and they have to be, they’re buried too deep for a casual scan. I can’t get into a real concentrated effort with the level of resistance I’m getting, either – not without restraints, anyway.”

“I’m startin’ t’ regret not talkin’ ya int’ ditchin’ this chore after ya pulled Wendy back out. Now we’re stuck in Neverland an’ happy hour has come an’ gone.”

“Well, these people have spent enough time here to get cozy, implying that it isn’t easy to get out.”

“Maybe fer ‘em. We ain’t tried yet. Don’t feel myself slippin’, though – that’s somethin’.”

“Yes, you seem to be fine here. I guess the problem is out there.”

“Stands t’ reason tha bad guy’s out there too, then.” He glanced at her quickly and looked away again. “Jeannie – what if I just went out there an’ found tha bastard? Ya could make me keep my distance after ‘til I’m human again. With a bit o’ luck, we could get back t’ Bowlin’ Green in time fer brunch.”

“What if it’s more than you can do?”

“That’s a short list, darlin’.”

“I don’t mean to insult the machismo, but it’s a real concern. If you ended up more feral than your healing factor could keep up with, what then? Nothing much can stop you when you hit a berserker rampage level. I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that.”

“Ya wouldn’t be.”

“Can you be so sure?”

He looked at her directly and held her gaze for the first time that morning. “Yeah, I can. Tha beast in me is there all tha time, darlin’ – he don’t just exist in Neverland, an’ he’s marked ya as ‘is. In that dream ya got mixed up in, I was huntin’ deer but I recognized ya as female – as mate. We don’t gotta like it, but it keeps ya safe, at least from my claws.”

“There are other considerations. We don’t know if there even is a bad guy to fight – and you can’t just kill them out of hand, anyway.”

“Sure I can, keeps things simple. If I catch tha one that started this clusterfuck, ghostin’ ‘em is tha shortest escape route – an’ it’d satisfy my need fer payback, too.”

“They may not know what they’ve done. Also,” she added, ignoring his dubious look, “it might not be a person at all. What if it’s some sort of portal we stumbled into? This could be another dimension, another world. We need more information.”

“Could be Central Park, ‘cept fer this muckin’ big cave. We’re in tha same place, Red, bet on it. Someone’s changed it, is all.”

Jean rubbed her temples briefly. The headache was finally starting to fade. “Even if you’re right, you can’t just kill them. There’s always another way.”

He took a breath. “Fine – but I am gonna go hunt. Get us a non-carnivore like some o’ tha skins tha Wild Bunch are sportin’. When I get back, keep yer distance fer a bit.”

“Is it worth the risk? We don’t know how long it’ll take you to recover if you’re out there for an extended time.”

“Starvin’ ain’t fun neither, an’ ya can control me, rampage or not. Ya stopped Sabretooth cold once without even breakin’ a nail – yers or ‘is.” He walked off into the snow of the wide flat plain. As he went, his thought was clear, whether he intended her to hear it or not.  _Coulda stopped me last night, too, Red._

Jean didn’t answer. She watched him until he disappeared from view. When she turned away to search the bloody scene of the fight, she found his cigars buried in the snow.

There were only three of them left in the hand-sized and cedar-lined stainless steel case, with a book of matches tucked in with them. She held her breath as she opened the matchbook, but the sight of the double row of matches allowed her to sigh in relief. Only four of them had been torn out.

Ignoring the caveman community busy with their primitive butchery, she found an outcropping of rock to sit on at the cavern’s entrance and waited for Logan to return. Her fingers stroked the cigar case as her thoughts began to wander, going unerringly back to Genosha.

 _Logan is all too eager to use his claws – and with someone like Magneto, it’s hard to say what’s right. We stopped him then, but if Logan hadn’t stabbed the man, he would have just continued the fight another day. Magneto said it himself – if we aren’t willing to kill, and our enemies are, we’re the ones who will die. Still, how can I justify such lethal methods?_  Remembering Scott’s words, almost approving of Logan’s brutality, she lifted a hand to her temple again. Her husband used to be adamant against lethal action. Jean sighed.  _As he gets more and more like Logan – where does that leave me?_

*****************************************************************

_Where tha devil did those idiots go, anyway? There’s nothin’ out here but snow. If they were huntin’, they came back empty-handed. Bone an’ sinew slingshots an’ clubs – not tha most effective ways t’ land dinner. No wonder it’s bear-dog fer breakfast._

Logan stopped and scented the wind. One moment, he would have sworn there wasn’t a creature for miles, but in the next, there were several. He started off following the scent trail of a large herd of an animal similar to an elk.

 _Somethin’ along tha elk line would be good. Warm fur, lots o’ meat. Kentucky shouldn’t have elk – whitetails’re ‘bout tha only member o’ tha deer family on tha menu here in tha real world. I guess it’s a beggars/choosers thing. Nothin’ native ‘bout bear-dogs, neither._ He almost tripped when he abruptly crossed tracks in the snow.  _That wasn’t there a minute ago, but it’s a match fer my elk._   _Thanks Hook, or whoever ya are. Neverland was gonna get tiresome if all there was t’ eat was bear-dog._

When the animals came into sight, they did look remarkably like elk. A disturbing thought brushed his mind. He stopped downwind of the herd and began picturing smaller prey – African gazelles.

_Not meant fer a climate like this, but tasty. More t’ tha point, are they gonna appear cuz I’m thinkin’ I want ‘em?_

The herd shifted and milled, the animals appearing to be grazing on the snow. As Logan concentrated on gazelles, he saw one – it flitted between two elk bucks and stood staring at him with wide innocent brown eyes.

_Damn. Nice trick, Hook. Feel free t’ show yerself while yer at it – I’d as soon bring yer hide back t’ Jean an’ go fer eggs benedict. Hell with this ‘can’t kill it’ bullshit. Whattaya say?_

The feather touch of something invasive slid into his mind and a tingling began in his nerve-endings. He recognized it as the same sensation he’d felt before, but couldn’t fight it off.

 _So much fer a straight-up fight. I do hate tha sneaky bastards._ He felt the wild urges of his bestial nature surge over his human mind and after a moment, he simply stopped trying to resist it.  _Time t’ embrace tha beast within._ It was his last coherent thought before the hunting instinct took over his mind.

~ ~ ~

He stared at the sight of his mate flying to him on the wind like a bird without wings. His lips curled in a snarl, afraid of the strange magic. She landed in the snow a few feet from his kill and watched him.

“Thought you might like some help toting all that back home.”

His claws were extended and bloody from the hunt, but though he crouched and shied from her, he couldn’t raise them against her. A low growl escaped his throat as she stepped closer. The magic was gone, but would it return? Was she threatened by it?

“Oh – I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my TK would upset you in this state.”  _Logan? It’s only a part of me. Like your claws are a part of you. I’m still just – you can trust me. I won’t harm you and you won’t harm me, because I’m … your mate. Yes?_

He cocked his head at her, confused by the words – but their bond transmitted her meaning to his mind slowly. No harm to mate... His growl stopped. She approached and touched him, stroking the fur along the side of his muzzle. Straightening, he gave her a brief nuzzle against her neck. Then he leaned down and hooked the smaller kill with his claws, flipping it over his shoulder to his back.

As he was about to grasp a hind leg of the massive prey and haul it off, the entire animal lifted out of the snow and hovered over it, dripping blood from the trio of holes at the left shoulder. He startled and snarled, but his mate’s touch reassured him. It was strange, and difficult to trust, but he could feel the energy that held the prey emanating from his mate. Unsettled by the sight of it, he led the way and listened to her steps as she followed.

At the cavern’s edge, she set the heavy buck down in the snow. “This brute won’t fit in our cave.”

Ignoring the strange noises she made, he growled when he caught the scent of the others. Bristling, he faced down the smaller beasts, but none of them attempted to challenge him. Their alpha growled and postured, but soon he too backed down and looked away.

Returning to his kill, he stood over it and stared them all down until they began to shuffle away, acknowledging that the meat was his. Satisfied, he left it there; his mate needed rest. He would let her feed on the meat he carried until she recovered her strength. Giving the others a final warning growl, he entered the dark tunnel as their eyes followed him.

His mate’s footsteps slowed, her fear scent growing. “Did we pass up our cave?”

Searching for a more suitable den, he found one deeper in the earth. The three caverns were connected by short passages, with the largest space in the center, and the smallest at the back. When he dropped the meat to one side of the biggest cave, the female entered to stand near him.

A flash of light flared out and shrank in her hands, making him growl nervously again. He tried to ignore the strange light, and reached down to crack bone and tear a haunch from the kill. He held it out to his mate as she stared at him.

“Raw Bambi is not my idea of a picnic.” As he continued to hold the meat out to her, she exhaled sharply and gingerly took it. “I hope you get your brains back soon. I’m not enjoying this. Where are you going? Oh, great.”

The small light she had made went out, leaving her blind in the dark. He passed her and returned to the old cave to bring the other furs to their new den.

After checking on the female, he took to the deeper tunnel passages briefly. The elusive scent of water had come to him and a growing thirst sent him in search of it.

~ ~ ~

It felt like recovering from poison, as the healing factor worked to drive out contagion from both body and mind. As Logan’s thoughts cleared from a haze of instinct, he found himself leaning over water, drinking. The scent of it was clean.

A dark pool stretched out before him, issuing from under the low arch of rock where he crouched, and disappearing again beneath a similar arch on the opposite side. The shaft over the pool ended in a dome, and the tunnel he must have entered by was nothing but a hole in the chamber wall.

There was light here, too. He glanced around the walls at phosphorescent clusters of stone giving off a patchwork illumination like weak moonlight.

_Jeannie would like that. Where?_

A vague memory of leaving Jean in new digs holding the leg of a gazelle carcass made a slow smile grow on his lips. Finding her would be easy but first, a bath. He still reeked of bear-dog gore, and adding elk hadn’t improved it.

He shrugged off the remains of his shirt and jacket and stripped off the boots and pants. His boxers were sliced along with the pants, a grim reminder of the night before. Frowning, he tossed them and his socks over the rest, and stepped down into the freezing water.

It came up to his thighs at the edge, but rose to his chest at the center. His healing factor staved off a lot of the cold. Trying not to think too much, almost regretting the return of that ability, he focused on scrubbing blood off of his skin and out of his hair.

There was a current of sorts in the pool, too. It was languid and gentle, but constant.  _An underground stream – convenient. Part o’ Echo River?_ He dunked himself to finish rinsing his hair clean. When he shot back to the surface with a loud splash, his dripping hair in his face, he strode quickly to the edge of the pool.  _Wonder if shakin’ would work? Tha uniform really oughta include a towel. Don’t fancy tryin’ t’ yank on leathers wet._  He stepped up out of the pool and froze as a familiar scent hit him.  _My timin’s still off – gotta snap outta that shit._

“You could just drip dry, but I brought a fur along, if you want to try that.”

“Been there long?”

“Long enough.” She smiled and walked up, holding out one of the thinner sleeping furs.

“Gettin’ good at followin’ mental sigs in tha pitch black?” He wrapped the fur around his hips.

“Yes, but I guess I missed tha sign that said, ‘Gorin’s Dome: Men’s Locker Room’.”

“Nature’s co-ed. If ya’d like a turn, I can head up an’ get started skinnin’.”

“No, thanks; I don’t enjoy hypothermia. I’ll figure out how to make a sponge bath work later – once I find nature’s stand-in for the sponge.”

“Piece o’ leather would do it.”

“Great. Any other ‘basic needs’ issues you can clear up for me while we’re at it, MacGyver?”

Logan grinned. “Want me t’ pick a cave fer tha co-ed lavatory?”

Jean made a face. “Oh, yeah, this is going to be so fun.”

“Made a few interestin’ discoveries before my mind stepped out up there.”

Jean bent down and picked up his boots and clothes. “Fill me in.” She sighed abruptly. “Why can’t they have rocks like that in the tunnels, or in our cave? I did find your matches, though. It’s getting colder, too.” She lifted them both up to the exit with her telekinesis.

“Ya should throw one o’ tha furs ‘round ya,” Logan answered, and led the way back.

Jean didn’t reply. She followed him in silence until they returned to their caverns. Logan approved of his animal side’s taste in dens. It would be easy to defend if they had to, and though the temperature of the air was dropping again, they were out of the wind completely. There was even a suitable ventilation hole in the ceiling of the middle cavern, for smoke to escape.

“If we can get a fire going,” Jean said, answering his thought. “What can we burn?” She put his clothes and boots down in a pile.

“We could try goin’ topside an’ wishin’ fer firewood.” He smiled at her frown. “I wanted elk an’ elk appeared. Then I dreamed up tha gazelle t’ make sure I wasn’t wrong ‘bout tha elk. It popped up on tha heels o’ tha thought. That was just before I went feral again, but somethin’ read my mind an’ provided what I wanted t’ hunt.”

“A telepath? I should have been able to sense that. How could the thoughts be made real?”

“Beats me. They were grazin’ on snow an’ didn’t have tha sense t’ be afraid o’ me but obvs,” he picked up the torn gazelle haunch she’d set on top of the carcass and sniffed it, “they’re real.”

“And raw. What about my shirt? I can just zip the jacket.”

Logan sighed. “Torch tha boxers first, no point tryin’ t’ put ‘em back on – an’ my shirt.” He put the meat down and went to retrieve his pants. “First order o’ business, though – we need t’ deal with tha elk we left topside.”

~ ~ ~

Jean was able to control her distaste long enough to help him skin their kill, though she’d opted not to watch as he gutted it. Considering the time it had taken his mind to recover, he was grateful she had left the elk out in the snow where it could begin to freeze before the meat could spoil.

Her telekinesis was very useful in the skinning effort, as were his claws. She had stopped asking why he wanted some things done a particular way, and by the time he asked her to use her TK to pull the remaining meat and membrane from the elk’s skin, she got into the task as he explained it without comment or complaint. Logan suspected she thought it a better chore than the one he’d left for himself – taking several of the organs back to the pool in Gorin’s Dome to wash them.

First, he had her help him spread out the skin with the fur in the snow. Not bothering to quarter the elk, he used his claws to cut away choice sections of flesh and tossed them onto the skin. When he had an impressive mound of it, he pulled the skin up to wrap the meat inside of it.

“Cart this down t’ our new digs, would ya, Red? I’ll wash tha organs an’ meet ya there; then we can see ‘bout gettin’ a fire goin’.”

“No problem.” Disdaining touching the skin, she used her TK to lift the bundle and entered the caverns ahead of him – probably to avoid watching him carry the rest.

Before following her, he decapitated the elk and hauled its head off by one antler to wash it with the organs. He returned from Gorin’s Dome with the stomach tied off and filled like a water balloon, and a long section of the intestines rinsed clean and ready to be filled with rendered elk fat. Setting them down with the head, he started gathering loose stones to form a fire pit. Jean watched him in silence, lost in thought.

Sacrificing one of his matches, he got a fire going using their cast-off clothing as tinder. As he’d assumed, the smoke disappeared neatly into the ceiling.

Logan picked up the head again, popped the claws on one hand, and sheared the antlers away by taking the whole top of the skull off. Putting them aside, he planted the head just outside of the stone circle with the brains uncut and exposed.

After that, he got industrious in earnest, without asking Jean to help. Simply doing things himself was faster than explaining how to do them. Some of it, like decapitating the gazelle, he knew she couldn’t handle. Taking the top of that skull off, he set the gazelle head next to the elk. He used most of the antlers to form a spit for the fire, and carved a stone into a rough bowl to render the fat that he cut away from some of their meat. Spearing long strips of meat onto antler tines, he set them to roast over the flames.

He spotted the shreds of his black leather jacket and went to add them to the fire. It didn’t improve the smell, but the scents of warming brains and boiling fat that soon followed were too strong to notice it much.

_Hopefully, roastin’ meat’ll cancel some o’ that out soon._

Carving down another section of antler, he snatched up a strip of jacket leather with a claw and used it to wrap one of the smaller furs they acquired from the cavemen around a pointed tine. Dipping the balled-up fur into the fire, he wedged the other end between a pair of larger rocks to make a torch.

Retracting his claws, he smiled at her. “Bit more light fer ya.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Jean asked, indicating the brains sitting in the sliced open skulls near the fire.

“Let ‘em putrify, use ‘em t’ tan tha elk skin.”

She wrinkled her nose at the idea. “How did you learn all of this?”

“I don’t remember.” He started gathering up the furs she had scraped. “I’ll wash these off an’ then finish our candle manufacturin’.”

“Let me.” She picked up the antler torch, plucked the furs out of his hands with her telekinesis, and headed for the entrance. “I want to wash my hands. Maybe sub-zero water will take the stink off.”

“Worked fer me.” He didn’t look up at her. The strips of meat on the antler spit were roasting well. “When ya get back, this’ll be ready.”

After she left, he picked up the skinned and headless gazelle by a leg and a haunch, and carried it up the tunnel. The leader of the Neanderthals had resettled in the cave Logan and Jean had used the night before. The reek of butchered bear-dog was getting strong in there. He dropped the gazelle outside and headed back down.

 _Nothin’ like sharin’ t’ stop thoughts o’ thievin’._ He ignored the man’s attempt to growl at him.  _Wonder if they’ll have tha sense t’ gut it first, or if they’re just gonna dig in? What tha hell – that’s what my inner beast always does._

When he returned, he stretched out a sheet of membrane he’d turned into a sieve over one end of the knotted off intestine. Pouring fat into it from a scorched stone bowl was a challenge, and he was grateful for his healing factor more than once.

Finding several hand-size stones, he carved a hollow in their tops and cut the bottoms sides flat. He filled them all with the rest of the fat and inserted twists of lichen into them to serve as wicks. With one match, he lit them for Jean, checked the roasting meat a final time, and then retreated to the deepest cave.

Logan was lying on the pile of furs when he heard Jean return. She didn’t call out to him, or seek him out. Sighing, he turned onto his stomach and tried to get comfortable in the tight leather pants. He hadn’t bothered with his boots and he was regretting getting dressed at all. Why be modest? She had been bold enough at the pool and hadn’t looked away.

 _Her scent’s changed, in fact,_  he thought.  _Tha anomaly wasn’t there long, but it was there._

 _It changed me,_ she answered from the other room. _I didn’t think it could. Going out to meet you, staying out there on the walk back, it started to change me, whatever – or whoever – it is._

_Feral? Didn’t get that. ‘Sides, it’s diff’rent; fer starters, ya haven’t started mimin’ Lassie._

_I’m not sure what it was but I didn’t mean to gawk at you like that. If it steals your humanity, maybe it deprives me of my manners._

_No harm done._

_Did you eat?_

_Had mine before tha march home, darlin’._

_Oh... What do I do with the rest? With the fire?_

Logan got up and came out. He showed her how to wrap the rest of the meat in leather he’d scraped the fur from and they buried it in the ash around the edge of their fire.

“Let tha fire burn. We can get it goin’ again if it goes out, but it’d be best not t’ let it. I’ll keep an eye on it. Why don’t ya get some sleep?”

He fetched the wet gazelle skin and the stomach water balloon and popped an adamantium claw. Stretching the thin fur around the organ, he used strips of it cut with the claw to sew a furry sack around the balloon. By the time the skin dried, they’d have a serviceable canteen.

Jean watched him quietly for a long moment before she turned and disappeared into the last cave. He heard the furs rustle and go still. Resting the canteen safely away from the fire, he settled his back against a wall with his bare feet pointed toward the flames.

He watched the fire for a long time before he closed his eyes, but sleep was elusive.

*****************************************************************

 _How am I going to keep Scott from finding out?_ She lay on her back and stared into the blackness.  _Or should I admit it, explain – it was a mistake, and neither of us intended... You could have stopped him, Dr. Grey, without hurting him. He knows it; you’re the one who won’t look at it – won’t admit it. There’s something else going on, here. You even call yourself ‘Dr. Grey’ now, like you used to before you got married. What happened to referring to yourself as ‘Mrs. Summers’, just because you loved to hear it?_

Scott had died saving Nate. She grieved, tried to keep going. Unwilling to believe it could be true, she had none-the-less suffered every minute of his loss horribly. Then he had returned to them – but Apocalypse had changed him somehow, she could feel it.

Once, disillusioned by never having a moment of peace or any hope of a normal life, he had told her he felt it would be foolish to continue to discuss having children. Not then, and maybe not ever. She hadn’t burdened him with her own dreams then. There would be time, and peace, someday.

_His fear of fatherhood was linked to his confused feelings about his own father, not wanting to make his mistakes. I comforted, knowing there was time – but is there any point now, to any of it? He’s cold to me. He doesn’t seek me out, or look at me with affection ... or touch me. The months he was gone, I was so lonely, so destroyed by grief … but it wasn’t better when he came back. Now, I only feel anger from him and a fear of getting too close again._

Last night, pressed down by Logan’s weight, she had felt something that went beyond the fear of what it could do to both of them, or to Scott. Her tears had been of guilt and shame, not fear or pain. Yet a wild heat had sparked out of all of it, fueled by his powerful need and set ablaze by her long-denied feelings for the gruff and brutal man the world knew as Wolverine.

She had always been able to keep that odd and unwelcome attraction at arm’s length. She was safe in Scott’s love – all her needs fulfilled, her dreams realized, with him. Then, when that perfect love was pierced and poisoned, the feelings she’d always had for Logan had welled up to torment her.

 _It ended up torturing him, too. I don’t know why he feels the way he does, but I know it’s not casual. I almost wish it was._ Jean sighed. _It’s his feelings for me that make it harder to resist, too. I’m starving – and what I need, he could give, in every way. It would be wrong, though … because I don’t love him the way he wants me to. But the feel of him..._

In defiance of her weakening will, her body trembled at the memory – his force, his strength, even the visceral animal nature that had bitten her neck to keep her still. The beast hadn’t known that she couldn’t have escaped him then – though she could have stopped him, if she wanted to.

 _I didn’t want to and I know I shouldn’t make it worse, for all of us – but it’s already done, isn’t it? We can’t change it and I’m already guilty. I could have stopped him._  Her punishment was assured, even if it was only her private shame, unknown by her husband forever.  _We didn’t really commit a crime, though, did we?_   _It was a misunderstanding... Yes,_ she answered herself, her guilt sharpening her self-recrimination,  _a misunderstanding you didn’t prevent._

A ghost of the strange feelings that had overcome her out on the plain made her frown, resenting the censure. At the same time, she heard the echo of the U2 song  _One_  slip into her rebellious thoughts. It was her wedding song, the promise she and Scott had danced to, surrounded by family and friends.

 _What of his promises?_  her growing anger demanded.  _He just pushes me away, barely looks at me. If he’s turned away from me already, what does it matter if I turn to someone else?_ A flood of old curious questions washed over her. _What might it be like? I already found out the beast in him can make me feel more alive than I have in years. What can the man do?_ Cold reason interrupted the mad thoughts.  _He won’t touch me. He’s sickened by the thought that he forced me – he doesn’t realize I did want it._

Her body burned. She didn’t notice when reason failed. Her anger and caged desire didn’t deny her guilt – they used it against her sense of right and wrong. The words twisted, and something about them wasn’t the truth, but she was in too deep to detect the lie.

_It’s already happened – if I’m going to have to face the guilt of it, I may as well have it all. If only just once..._

As quietly as she could, she stripped off the jacket and shirt, shuddering in the cold. Then she slipped out of her makeshift fur skirt and cut pants. Even touching the split his adamantium claw had made excited her further. The boots were harder to tackle in the dark, but she managed to make a pile of her clothing over them, and shoved it up against the wall at her head, away from the furs.

Most of this effort had left her exposed and chilled, and she snuggled down into the furs again, shivering.

She felt delicately for Logan’s mind and found him awake, wondering how to get them home, and fretting about her mood. His own shame over his perceived crime still burned hot in his mind.

_Logan, I’m not angry with you. You couldn’t help it – and I didn’t stop you._

_Don’t matter, Red. Things ain’t been right since we landed in this B-rate production o’ Tarzan on Ice, but whatever’s goin’ on, it’s no excuse fer that. I’ve killed men fer less._

_What about forgiveness? You have it._

_I don’t understand ya, Jeannie. I remember – I heard ya cryin’._

_You know I’ve been – mixed up – since Scott got back, but all that is far away from us now. Logan … I’m cold._

*****************************************************************

He wanted to ask what the hell she thought she was doing. He had stopped her from drinking too much of the whiskey, to spare her pain. Whatever was lowering her inhibitions now was something he knew he couldn’t stop – or fight, or resist.

She hadn’t been quiet enough back there; he knew she was nude in the furs. The alluring scent of her pheromones affected him like a drug – one his mutant gift didn’t have a prayer of saving him from. The only thing that had stopped him in the past had been her. Respect for her. Not to take advantage of her weakness, even when her body drowned him in heat.

Logan hesitated, torn between what she seemed to want now and what she might regret after. He knew there were worse torments than not having her – the horror of her disgust, or if she couldn’t trust him, or face him at all.

 _Logan, please understand..._  Her thought reached out to him, filling his mind with soothing comfort.  _Things are different here. We can worry about the rest when we find a way out. For now, I need you. I don’t care about anything else._

_Ya might, an’ one o’ tha diff’rences is yer scent Jeannie – ya ain’t yerself._

_Come to me. Keep me warm._

It was almost a compulsion. He recognized it even as he fell under its sway. Rising to his feet, he entered the cave where she lay. She drew him in with her will and the gentlest nudge of her telepathic power.

“Ya don’t need that.”

“I asked and you didn’t come.”

“Ya ain’t right in tha head.”

“I thought you couldn’t say no to me?”

The gentle pressure was there again, influencing him, taking away freedom of choice. Instinctively, he fought it. “Drop tha witchery, Red. We both know ya can, but if ya take my will away, I won’t thank ya fer it.”

“Such anger, even though you want this as much as I do. You are surprising.” She released him from the telepathic pull and he felt it leave his mind. “But I’m still cold.”

Logan knelt and pulled the furs away from her body. His breath caught at the sight of her. The smile on her face would be more at home on his old bedmate Yukio’s sly mug, but at that moment it was hard to care about her state of mind.

Her left hand rose and sought him out, blindly reaching until she found his chest. The hand stroked him down to his belt, fingers tracing the metal X on the buckle.

“I wish I could see you.”

Her finger hooked in the buckle and gently pulled him down. He lay beside her and covered them both with the heavy warm furs.

She wasted no time, opening the belt easily, but struggling a moment with the rawhide ties. When she got them open, her hand slipped in to cup his painfully hard cock. His gasp was loud in his ears.

Logan rolled to face her and captured her mouth, his hands on either side of her face as the kiss melted all thought of resistance.

Jean worked the leather pants off of his hips and Logan almost tore them worse than they were already in his hurry to be as naked as the lithesome woman beside him. His fingers found her wet and ready, but he gave her his mouth first, just to enjoy the taste of her.

“Picked up some talents in Japan?”

_Yeah, but I don’t remember where or when fer this. Before ya were born, probly._

_The lesson stuck well. Better than –_

_We’ll both be happier if we leave ‘im outta it._

_Logan – I had no idea..._

Her first climax caught her off guard and her cry echoed in the cavern. Clutching at his shoulders, her French manicure bit into his flesh but the momentary pain only excited him more.

When she drew the backs of her fingers down his cheek in a caress, he felt the hard, cold point of her engagement diamond and the metal of the wedding band. Before the touch left his face, he rose over her body and mounted her quickly, without warning.

The dreams of having her, their passion melting the snow, were nothing compared to the sensation of sinking himself deep, enveloped by her eager flesh and the rampant scent of her desire. His hands covered her breasts as his lust took over his body.

_Logan, tell me –_

_Ya know already._

_I need to hear it..._

He moved his lips to her ear as his thrusts quickened. “Jeannie ... Jean,” he whispered. “I love ya. I always have.”

She wanted him to open to her completely, but he held back. The memory of her compulsion was too fresh and it had hurt him more than he cared to admit, even to himself. With his mind and heart shut tight against her, he gave her only his body and the admission of his love, which he feared he would regret.

Seeking to make her forget about the rest, he worked her senses into a frenzy of nerve-burning passion, losing track of the times he made her come. When his own ejaculate tore through him, he cried out his need with his passion – but it was mixed with an emotional pain that left him panting and afraid.

Her hands stroked him, his hair, and his body. Her mind attempted to pour comfort over the new psychic wound she had left in the wake of her desire.  _Sleep, now,_  her thoughts soothed.  _You have nothing to fear. Sleep..._

Logan never knew if she caused it directly, but he slipped into a sleep too deep for dreams, where fear and pain couldn’t touch him.


	6. Deeper Mysteries

She leads me through moonlight  
Only to burn me with the sun  
She’s taken my heart  
But she doesn’t know what she’s done

I look in the mirror and all I see  
Is a young old man with only a dream  
Am I just fooling myself  
That she’ll stop the pain  
Living without her  
I’d go insane

Feel her breath on my face  
Her body close to me  
Can’t look in her eyes  
She’s out of my league  
Just a fool to believe  
I have anything she needs  
She’s like the wind.

~ She’s Like the Wind (Patrick Swayze)

*****************************************************************

The heavy male body curled close against hers was warm. His snoring had woken her. Conscious thought returned slowly as she stroked the muscled arm draped over her. She ran her fingernails against the grain of the hair on the forearm and felt him stir. Turning her head, she kissed his temple in the dark.

“Answers my first question,” he said, his voice low and slurred with sleep.

Jean smiled. “Why would I be angry with you? I’m the bad guy this time. I was the first time, too.”

“Didn’t much ‘preciate tha come-hither whammy, but ya weren’t wrong ‘bout me wantin’ it.” He nuzzled her hair. “Ya still don’t smell right.”

“Is that Canadian for ‘good morning’?”

“I’m tha only one with a healin’ factor, Jeannie. Whatever Hook’s doin’, it ain’t stopped influencin’ ya.”

“Hook?” She turned her face to his, wishing again that she could see him.

“Top baddie o’ Neverland. Scent is less, though. Maybe tha caverns weaken it.”

She pressed herself closer to his skin, one hand stroking a mutton chop sideburn, the other his thigh. “Shop talk can wait.” Whatever reply he drew breath to make, she prevented with her mouth.

For the first time, there was a chance to explore the kiss. Neither of them were inches from death and no threat to life or limb was crashing toward them. Even her normal guilt level seemed muted, in spite of their flagrant disregard of her marriage vows.

The pervading observation was that he really was the best – even though her experience was rather limited – and that assessment wasn’t just for his mouth’s talents. Under evil influence or not, she admitted to herself without remorse that he had surpassed her husband’s skills – in all departments.

Logan broke the kiss, but his hands remained, cupping her face gently. “We shouldn’t do this, Jean. Ya will regret it an’ heapin’ more skeletons int’ tha closet ... they tend t’ land on yer head later.”

Factoring in the adamantium bones, he was a lot heavier than he might have been. She cheated with telekinesis to roll him onto his back. Straddling his hips, she leaned over him, her lips feathering over his.

“I have thought of this, more than once – but I never imagined I’d have to work so hard to seduce you.” Her teeth nipped his lower lip, then she began kissing and licking his ear. “Old rules don’t apply here and it’s harmless.” She couldn’t help a soft laugh when she recalled something his feral mind had believed. “I can’t have your puppies, though, I’m on the pill.”

“It’s a bit o’ fun, huh?” His voice was harsh and his thoughts were cold. She yelped in surprise when he tossed her off of him into the furs. “Ain’t a joke t’ me, Red.”

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer her as he left, but she could hear him in the larger cave outside, tinkering with the elk parts. Stretching in the warm furs, she sighed. When Logan headed her way again, Jean sat up, hoping he’d changed his mind – but his thoughts were all business.

“One o’ tha Wild Bunch just headed downstairs with that gazelle I gave ‘em. None o’ ‘em have bothered t’ go so deep since we arrived. Gonna shadow ‘im. Hasn’t been a whiff o’ bear-dog in tha caverns – they must not like ‘em. So ya should be safe.”

“Want your pants?”

“Nope. I’ve decided t’ join tha union. When in Rome.”

“The fire’s out, isn’t it?”

“It ran outta fuel. Candles’re lit. Stay inside; when I get back, I’ll find somethin’ else t’ burn. Probly won’t be long.”

“Why don’t I go wander around and think about finding firewood? Maybe I could get a bead on your Hook.”

“Suit yerself. Just keep an eye out fer beasties.”

Jean got up and felt her way to the candlelight. Logan stood there dressed in a loincloth cut from one of the hides he’d scraped. Perhaps it was the glare in his eyes, but the style didn’t look strange on him.

“I like it. Maybe I’ll join too.” She leaned against the wall of the main cave, displaying her body to him in the flickering yellow light.

“I hope ya get yer manners back soon, Red. ‘Til then, I’d rather play teammates. Casual never was my game.”

Jean laughed. “You’re notorious for casual – wasn’t the term ‘male slut’ coined just for you?”

His frown wasn’t amused. “Ya ain’t never gonna be in tha ‘catch-as-catch-can’ category.”

“What happened to ‘willing to make me feel better’?”

“Made that offer t’ a diff’rent woman – doppelgangers don’t count.”

~ ~ ~

Jean began to dress as soon as he left. Pocketing the matchbook, she left their caves and entered the main corridor but instead of turning to go up, she went down.

She didn’t try to be quiet, knowing the intrepid Wolverine would have already sensed her. Forming a loose telepathic connection with him, she used it not only to follow, but to find her way in the dark.

His offense had stung her, but he hadn’t been able to hide his desire, either. She knew he could be stubborn and that loving her didn’t make him putty in her hand. Yet his attitude, far from dissuading her, had come across as an amusing challenge.

*****************************************************************

Ahead of him and unaware of his presence, one of the two smaller men was toting the gazelle over his back and feeling his way down passages and through caverns. He gave off a strong fear scent when he crossed the Rotunda, the sixth largest room in the cave system, but he continued to go down without variation.

The going was slow, too, because the fool couldn’t see. He startled at the sounds of crickets and shuddered when bats were heard overhead. The pace gave Logan more time to brood on his situation, though he suspected it was a pointless circular effort.

_Call me old fashioned, but I’m in love with tha whole package an’ right now Jean’s actin’ like Viper, not tha Phoenix. Be careful what ya wish fer, bub._

The assassin with a poison fetish that the world called Viper had roped him into an unwanted marriage. Storm, Jean, Psylocke, and Jubliee had reacted to the news of his promise to marry Viper with horror, taking it like a betrayal of all that the X-Men had fought for.

Only Shadowcat had known better, having been steeped in Japanese culture once. It was giri – a debt of honor, to an old friend whose life Viper had saved, along with his own. Seraph had died of her injuries soon after, but her final request had been that Logan repay their debt to Viper. The assassin had called in her marker with a marriage license to further her goals for power in his old haunt, Madripoor.

The union hadn’t been typical in more ways than one. He’d left with Shadowcat, his witness, after the ceremony – leaving Viper to her devices. She had contacted him a few times, mostly to ask for help with scrapes, but her habit of insinuating that they should consummate the paperwork had always enraged him.

 _Thank God fer Kitty,_  he thought.   _Without ‘er,_   _I mighta forgotten my honor an’ decapitated tha bride. Gotta divorce, but I still think I’d be a happier man today if I’d stabbed tha wretch. Sure as hell woulda been cheaper. Shit, Sabretooth showed up at tha weddin’ on cue – shoulda let ‘im eat ‘er._

Memories of the woman he’d once tried to wed, Mariko of Clan Yashida, had haunted him for years. The pain of her death had never left him. His indebted marriage to Viper had made a mockery of his long-dead hopes.

 _Now Jean is movin’, speakin’ an’ behavin’ just like that venomous bitch. Not a thought in ‘er head fer what this is doin’ t’ me. Tha sight o’ ‘er in tha candlelight was almost too much, though – righteous wrath aside – an’ no chance she didn’t know it, bub._ Sniffing the air, he caught another whiff of the pheromones that dogged Jean’s scent. She was still following him.  _Probly aware ya know it, too._   _Make up yer mind, Canucklehead. This is an all or nothin’ choice, an’ maybe ya shouldn’t care ‘bout how she’ll feel after it’s over an’ she runs back t’ that Boy Scout._ He frowned.  _Yeah, right._

A new scent below him, beyond the man he’d followed, distracted him. Someone else was down here. Someone the emissary of the Wild Bunch felt pretty reverent about. He paused and scented it again, aware that Jean was coming closer behind him.

_Human, male – not a mutant, neither. What tha hell is he doin’ down here?_

The caveman transferred the gazelle to his arms, holding it out like a sacrifice or gift. He didn’t seem afraid of the man in the cavern before him, but his behavior was odd for someone who obviously called the big Neanderthal above his boss.

When Jean reached him, her fingers touched his back.  _Logan, I can sense someone in there – and he’s thinking like a civilized person._

_What’re we waitin’ fer? Maybe he knows where tha bus stop is._

With Jean’s hand on his shoulder, Logan entered the cavern room. They had to duck through a low tunnel entrance, where Jean dropped back behind him, but beyond that there was meager light from the phosphorous rocks that covered the walls of a large cave.

Their caveman was kneeling in front of a slight man seated on a low shelf of stone. He was in his mid-forties, dressed in a tattered hiking outfit mixed with furs, and wearing glasses.

A quick look around proved one thing to Logan and a growl rose with the revelation.  _This joker is Wendy’s couturier, Jeremiah ‘isself._

_How can you be sure?_

Logan gestured to things that must have been only dark mounds in Jean’s sight. The dim light showed it all clearly to him – tanning tools and a pile of scraped hides done with moderate skill; though that assessment didn’t explain the state of the hides the cavemen wore.

_One mystery at a time, bub._

Then a dark lump in one corner made his hands curl into fists. It had been cured and mounted like a deer, and appeared to be a reptilian creature.

_We might oughta watch our Ps an’ Qs, Red. He’s gotta yen fer decoratin’ with mutant heads._

_What? Great. Could this be your Hook?_

_Nope. Caught Hook’s scent once – had t’ be – an’ I’m bettin’ Dustin Hoffman ain’t right fer tha part in this one. Glenn Close, maybe._

The man in glasses hadn’t seemed too surprised to see them, but the caveman was. After placing his gift on the stone beside him, he turned and crouched, with an imitation growl. He twitched when the man touched his shoulder, but stopped growling.

“Welcome,” he greeted them. The accent was East Coast, maybe Boston.

“You aren’t feral. How did you get here?” Jean asked.

“By airplane, then rental car.” His gaze fell on Logan. “You have your mind, but you dress like my friends. Are you the one who killed the monster?”

“Yup. Brought down yer dinner there, too but we know who we are an’ we’re curious – so ya get t’ talk first.”

“Might makes right, and therefore you’re in charge now?” He smiled. “My personal convictions entirely. My name is Edward Reece and I stumbled into this much as you must have.”

“Got quite a skin trade goin’. They bring ya meat an’ go away with leather?”

“Essentially.”

“What’d ya give ‘em fer tha lizard head?”

“You are mutants, so I understand your offense. The monsters killed him. They generally kill all but pure humans, even attacking the males that carry potential mutant genes. I don’t hate mutants, I assure you – I study them. I’ve been hoping some would arrive and survive long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” Jean asked.

“To help me get us all out of here.”

*****************************************************************

“He was telling the truth,” Jean said as they entered their own caves again. “Not all of it, maybe, but he wasn’t lying. Why the sudden insistence on solitude? We should have stayed and kept him talking. It might be the only way to get to the bottom of all this.”

“Got antsy, needed time t’ think.” Logan checked on his skull bowls full of brains.

Wrinkling her nose, she frowned. “Do you have to keep that in here? It’s starting to rot.”

“Good. Means it’s ready. Ya gotta mash tha putrefied brains int’ gruel an’ rub it int’ tha flesh side o’ tha fur, work it in. Then ya keep pullin’, stretchin’, an’ rubbin’ tha hide, ‘til it softens, then smoke it t’ finish it off. Works pretty good in a pinch.”

Jean made a face. “That better be your chore, or I’m taking my chances with the bear-dogs. Want some Bambi jerky?”

Logan shook his head and took the skulls and mass of elk hide into a corner out of the way. Jean didn’t watch him; the description had been enough. She selected a strip of venison jerky and paced as she gnawed it, mulling over the situation.

“Question is, can we trust him? I can’t seem to get beyond his surface mind to be sure.”

“Can’t ask Chuck t’ lend a hand, so I’d say keep tryin’.”

“He wouldn’t have fallen prey so easily. I feel like I’m operating in a fog.”

“Don’t be so sure. He fell from grace hard once. Name ‘Onslaught’ ring a bell? Bustin’ yer own chops don’t help none.”

“Charles would be able to figure out what he’s hiding in a minute.” She sighed. “Why do you insist on calling him ‘Chuck’?”

“Cuz it irritates ‘im an’ it shows ‘im he’s a regular guy. Now an’ then, he needs tha reminder.”

“We should take Reece up on the offer to talk about our potential escape. Wendy got out, so it has to be possible.”

“She got out cuz ya were there t’ yank ‘er mind out.”

“Yes, but we could see her. Tourists, park rangers – we all saw her and she saw us.”

“Ignored ‘em all, though. Coulda been figments or shadows in ‘er view.”

“Not you.”

“I spoke ‘er new language.”

“Maybe it was easier with a telepath outside the place to pull someone free but what if there was something else going on – some reason she could be seen by us that wasn’t there before?”

“Sounds like yer department. Or ‘Where’s Waldo’ might know – but he strikes me as a man who likes ‘is secrets.”

“Will you come with me?” She looked over at him as he sat rubbing the foul-smelling gelatin into the hide.

He met her gaze and his expression was unreadable. “Go ahead. Gonna finish this an’ wash up. Then I think I’ll go sniffin’ fer Hook again.”

She watched him as he looked away and got back to work on the skin. Whatever she’d done to upset him was still smoldering. The ghost of a thought told her she should care, should want to make it right, but all she could feel was a cool detachment. Turning away, Jean left and headed down to speak to Edward Reece.

~ ~ ~

The caveman was still there, sitting quietly in the center of the floor. He looked up when she entered and stared at the candle in her hand.

“Hollowed out stone, rendered fat, lichen wick,” Reece’s voice greeted her. “Inventive.”

“My roomie is a survival expert.”

“He is also a very singular mutant, the one they call the ‘Wolverine’, isn’t he? You, of course, are Phoenix.”

Jean nodded. “That’s why you knew he wasn’t feral before – knowing me, you assumed we were speaking telepathically.”

“Yes, and you have a habit of glancing at him when you do so. He is far more subtle, to hide assets a potential enemy may not be aware of.”

Ignoring the implied criticism, she asked, “Why do you study mutants?”

“I am an anthropologist by trade but why crawl around remote jungles when one of the most arresting species yet to be properly documented is right here in America?”

Frowning, Jean gestured to the caveman with her free hand. “So what’s their story?”

“I can’t speak for the others, as they don’t come to visit me. Andy here is the one the big fellow picked to trade with me. I actually know of them only what he could tell me. He might be able to tell you more in a few hours – with your ... talents ... you might be able to ask more probing questions.”

“I tried to find their names when we first got here. It didn’t work.”

“Ah yes – well, they live too close to the surface most of the time. Deep in the cave system, the animal sickness weakens. Andy is getting better already. So will you, if you remain.”

“What makes you think I’ve been affected at all?”

“Your telepathy would protect you from the worst of it, but I have many photos and television news clips of you and frankly, you look harder than you should, if a gentleman may say such a thing. I expect you’ve noticed behavioral changes in yourself and I’d certainly wager your companion has as well.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d accuse you of being a telepath.”

“I am merely adept at reading body language. He was uncomfortable in your presence, a factor I’ve never noticed before while researching your group’s activities. Simply put, if you avoid the surface, you will revert to your natural self.”

“You don’t go to the surface?”

“No. I have no desire to suffer the fate of the others. Here, I have water from Echo River, there is food to be had if one knows how to find it, and Andy brings me meat.”

“How can you escape if you don’t leave?”

“It’s not just a matter of avoiding the monsters and walking far enough away, Ms. Phoenix, you must know that. We are populating a very particular reality that shares the same space as the Mammoth Cave and Green River Valley. This situation was created by the same being that made the monsters.”

“Wendy called them bear-dogs. Did you help her escape?”

“She did get free? That’s fantastic. There’s no way to know, you see. Yes, I tried to help her. She was more like me – naturally less susceptible.”

“Wolverine told me she was wearing the skins of mutants.” Jean studied his face carefully.

“Yes, she was. I told you and your friend that mutants are killed here but they are feared, too. I hoped if she smelled like one, the monsters – bear-dogs, if you like – might be more hesitant to hurt her before she found a way out.”

“You didn’t just send her up to try her luck, I hope. An experiment?”

“Heavens, no. There is a better time and a worse time to be on the surface. Night is the worst and I’ve discovered, mostly with Andy’s help, that the times of twilight are the best. I sent Wendy up at twilight before dawn, for the best possible chance. Andy was with her, but obviously only she made it. Tell me, did she regain her human mind?”

“Yes. I found her name, buried deep, and made her remember herself.” Jean set her candle down on one end of his shelf and sat with the light between them. “How do you know twilight is best? What’s helpful about it?”

“The power that keeps us here appears to be weaker at those times. Andy swears you can feel it. He coaxed the others into a twilight trek into day to see if they could break out, but that failed. You both arrived not long after, possibly the key to this odd exile.”

“Why us?”

“My dear, there’s no need to pretend ignorance. I know of your abilities and the unique talents of Wolverine. He can handle the monsters and you can handle our mutual enemy. The two of you have a lot in common.”

~ ~ ~

Jean lost track of time. The caveman, Andy, eventually remembered himself and she was fascinated as she listened to him. He turned out to be a park ranger and an intelligent, good-hearted man. When he learned that Wendy had gotten out safely, he broke down in grateful tears.

It was then that she heard the real story about the bear-dogs and why he and the others thought they couldn’t be killed.

Her candle had gone out. She was about to get more lichen for it when they all heard a distant howling far above them.

“That’s the one that did it,” Andy whispered, fear in his voice. “He carved it in half like it was paper.” Turning to Jean, he added, “Are you sure you’re safe with that ... thing?”

“He won’t hurt me,” she replied, but she kept her eyes on Reece. She didn’t like the smirk on his face at all.

“You told me they were sharing a ‘den’, did you not?” When Andy nodded, he told him, “I wouldn’t worry about the lady then, my friend. That sort of sharing has ... benefits.” His smirk stretched into a thin smile as an outraged roar sounded in the distance, echoing through the caverns. “It seems that your mate has found you missing, Ms. Phoenix.” He rose and helped Andy to his feet. “If you don’t mind, it would be best for you to go up and meet him.”

Once, she would have protested his insinuation – now, she found she didn’t care. Part of her wanted to put Reece in his place for being so smugly aware of her situation, or at least to deny it – but it abruptly seemed pointless to argue that she and her friend weren’t mates just to keep her secret; what these men knew hardly mattered.

“It’s okay, I can handle him.”  _I think. I hope._

“I am certain of it, but if he finds you with us, he might feel the need to challenge us for his mate. We are not equipped to handle him.”

She frowned at Reece, suspicion pulling at her thoughts, but there was no time. Logan was coming fast and his bestial outrage was intense. Carefully, she connected with his mind and felt the worried fears that fueled the ferocity. He thought his mate, possibly with young, was in danger.

An unnatural smile curled her lips as she added a fresh bit of lichen from a rock behind her to the candle. Lighting a match to it, she rose. She would have a lot to tell Logan when his healing factor restored his mind. In the meantime, she had the beast Wolverine to keep her company.

“Good evening, gents,” she said as she swept out of the cave.

Logan skidded to a stop in a crouch before her in the vast chamber of the Rotunda. He had snow in his hair and pelt, and murder in his eyes.

She noted the bristling piloerection, what he called raised hackles, along the back of his neck, down his spine through the shoulderblades, and at the center of his thick-haired chest. The black hairs stood stiff in patterns through the normal body hair on his forearms, too. She had seen it before, for years, as well as the lips pulled back over elongated and savagely sharp canine fangs. The claws weren’t out, but the lethal tips could be seen, tearing bleeding cuts through the backs of his hands.

Jean walked up to him with a confidence she wouldn’t have had days ago. For the first time when faced with the beast on full display, she didn’t feel the fear and repulsion she had before – only the fascination and desire. His wildness had always drawn some unnamed thing inside her and now the restraints of civilization that had kept her at a distance were muted … and discarded.

He sniffed at the hand she brought up to touch him and growled, but his hostile body language melted quickly.

“Let’s go home, Logan,” she whispered, her fingers stroking his long black sideburn. His face pressed into the caress. “I’d like to take another shot at puppies before you snap out of it.”

He didn’t rise. Looping a hand around her waist, he pulled her down to him. This time, she couldn’t feel anything but the heat of her own lust; all thoughts of right and wrong were gone.

With an abrupt ~snikt~, she was exposed and pressed under his weight, the slit halves of her makeshift fur skirt falling to either side of her hips. She rose off of her stomach and let him take her on her hands and knees, trembling with the heat of her need and the chill of the stone and the frozen air. As he entered her with short, sharp jabs, she gasped aloud in the echoing silence.

Solely to make him pin her, she started to slip away. The four fang teeth closed on the back of her neck, a sharp threat that carefully avoided breaking her skin. Physical pleasure pushed her out of her tenuous civilized senses in moments. Surrendering to it, she gave herself utterly to him – but the beast didn’t notice the change.

Her mind sought his, galvanized by the savage animal he had become. That nameless thing deep within her own psyche crept out to meet the beast that thrust in her body. Far from shrinking back in fear, it reached out and embraced him, binding itself to his strength and stunning ferocity of will.

Shocked by the union of flesh and mind at once, her pleasure intensified until she feared she might faint – but she made no attempt to back away from his fire.

*****************************************************************

The den was dark and Jean’s nude body was pressed against his. Her fault this time, or his – did it matter?

 _It doesn’t._  She turned in his arms. “I want you again, Logan. Please make love with me.”

He was ready and he wanted her more than anything in his long muddled life. “I hope ya remember later that ya pushed fer this.”

“That bridge is far away. We can’t cross it until we get there.”

“Do ya even remember ‘is name?” Yet he was rolling her under him, his hungry mouth at her throat. “I’m afraid, Jeannie – ya could wind up hatin’ me when this is over.”

“Logan, I’m sorry for upsetting you before – but I could never hate you. I need you so much...”

“But ya don’t love me, do ya? It’ll always be ‘im.”

“Right now, it’s you.”

“Jeannie...”

“Hush,” she soothed, with her mind and her voice. “Give yourself to me for now.”

Logan buried his face in her hair and sank into her heat. His eyes were wet when they closed, letting the darkness be complete and letting her take him – body, heart, and soul.

~ ~ ~

“Twilight, huh? Maybe ya could try hailin’ Chuck again then, dawn or dusk?”

“I don’t think it would work. I’ve tried over and over again, but being here – wherever ‘here’ is – seems to be blocking me somehow and I’m getting tired of the migraines.”

“Huh. Back t’ workin’ it out fer ourselves, then. Ya spoke t’ tha other one yerself, tha one we followed downstairs?”

Jean shifted slightly against his chest. “Yes. He’s a ranger named Andy and I could read him a lot better than Reece.”

“He trusts this guy?”

“With a blind loyalty that translates to worship in caveman speak. We might want to be a touch more circumspect.”

“Hop up, Jeannie. We should go on a fuel scout. My stogies’re goin’ t’ be tha last thing we sacrifice t’ tha home fire.”

She moved off of him and went into the main room first. He watched her go, stunned as always by her beauty.

Strapping on his loincloth as he emerged, he settled down by the fire to finish the clothing he’d started to make for her before going out and turning feral again. They’d burned her ruined uniform the night before.

He lit one of his cigars in the flames, half expecting Jean to protest, but she was silent as she watched its smoke twine up with the smoke from their fire as it slipped out of the ventilation hole in the dome of the cavern.

“Nothing too ‘Raquel Welch’, huh? I am an emancipated woman.” She looked down to watch him, and he couldn’t resist giving her a wink before getting back to his project. “Furry underwear. I wonder if it’ll be all the rage this year at Neiman Marcus?” She hugged herself, shivering. “It is getting colder, though.”

“Yup,” he answered. “That’s why this ain’t tha time t’ fuss ‘bout wearin’ fur. While yer waitin’, grab a scrap an’ make a cork fer our canteen. Just roll it. I got tha rawhide cord there beside it.”

“Will this really hold water?”

“It’ll seep a bit, but it should work.”

“Drinking cave water. How are we going to avoid E. coli and other nasties?”

“‘Sides givin’ it a good sniff?” At her dubious look, he chuckled. “Hook’s set tha dial back past human contaminants. Long as we fill tha canteen from an underwater source, not a pool, should be clean an’ safe.”

“Says the man with the healing factor.” Rolling a piece of leather and working it into the mouth of the canteen, she began wrapping the cord around it tightly. “I never thought I’d let you turn me into Ayla.”

“Who’s that?”

“Another resourceful cavegirl, in a series of novels by Jean M. Auel.”

Logan smiled and held up her new clothes. “Raquel never looked so good, Red.”


	7. The Pack

Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire  
I lead the way to the funeral pyre  
And without a thought of the consequence  
I gave in to my decadence  
One slip and down the hole we fall  
It seems to take no time at all  
A momentary lapse of reason  
That binds a life for life  
A small regret, you won’t forget,  
There’ll be no sleep in here tonight  
Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love?

~ One Slip (Pink Floyd)

*****************************************************************

Some of the softest furs had been roughly transformed into a style of leggings Jean had only seen on Native Americans in history books. The top of the garment felt like a leather garter belt, and would have left a lot exposed if she didn’t have the fur skirt to cover up with. Her new long-sleeve top was laced up the front.

Being swaddled in deer fur from neck to boots gave her the appearance of a slender Sasquatch, but having discovered one of the uses for the odd leggings, she didn’t complain.

The cave she had started calling the bedroom was still warm, although the fire in the living room was dying down. From her supine position, she could see the edge of the collection of sticks they’d found by wishing for them outside. Yet with Logan attentively working her into a limp and panting thing, she couldn’t care about things like keeping the fire lit.

Her fingers combed through his wild hair below her bunched skirt as his tongue destroyed her ability to think. Moving her hands to the taut muscles of his arms, she stroked them as they gently hauled her legs farther apart.

The word  _ravaged_  drifted through her thoughts as he rose, shifted his weight and entered her again. Memories of her teen years, when she had giggled over words like that in books, made her smile. Logan fulfilled all of the old promises of the books in ways Scott would have been reluctant to try.

When he collapsed on her, spent, she loved the feel of his weight pressing her down. She felt exhausted, too, though her brain still swam with lust.

“For a man with no idea how old he could be, you have the stamina of a few twenty-somethings combined,” she whispered in his ear. “Not that I speak from experience.”

Logan’s chuckle sounded in the dark. “My mutant attributes are handy.” He moved away from her on the elk fur and sat up. “We’ve let tha fire die down.”

“It’s still warm, leave it a while.” Her hand stroked down his back.

“Voracious is a good look fer ya, Jeannie but if tha fire goes, it can get dangerously cold quick, ‘specially since tha degrees did a nose dive. Can’t save tha day t’morrow if we’re frozen solid in our sleep.”

“You think I’m going to let you sleep?”

“Yer tha one who dozed off last night, not me.” If he gave her one of his trademark smirks, she couldn’t see it, but the humor was plain in his thoughts.

She listened as he got up and went out to tend their fire. His silhouette flared up against the tunnel wall when the flames lit the outer cavern again. Returning to her, he sat and handed her a piece of venison jerky.

“No, thanks,” she said, sitting up to lay her head on his shoulder. When he began to eat it himself, she smiled. “Keeping your strength up?”

“Protein feeds tha healin’ factor. Can’t let ya wear me out; my reputation’s at stake.”

“Are we still going to try to herd our neighbors into the lower caverns tomorrow?”

“Best thing. If they’ll come outta it like Andy, they may know somethin’ worthwhile. A piece o’ tha puzzle Waldo ain’t got, anyway.”

“Reece,” Jean corrected, amused at his habit of giving satirical nicknames to people that irritated him.

When he finished the meat, she turned him and gently pushed him down into the thick elk fur. His fingers undid the rawhide lacing of her top and freed her breasts, the nipples hardening instantly in the open air. Warm hands in the dark cupped them, making her sigh with longing. Lowering herself over him, she melted into the sensations of his hot mouth on her chilled body.

~ ~ ~

Her boots crunched through the snow in an otherwise silent world. Logan waited at the cavern mouth, watching over her while keeping out of her way.

The snowy plain extended to the horizon in all directions and her scans picked up nothing, even though Logan had said he could scent bear-dogs on the light breeze.

Reece had told her that the monsters tended to dig themselves down into the snow at night for warmth, but they could do so to spring on prey, too. For that threat and to avoid worsening her own mental condition, she didn’t venture far.

_You’re out here and you know we know it. Logan even caught your scent and labeled you female. We aren’t against you – but we will find out how to escape this place and how to stop you from harming others. Why not show yourself? If you’ve been hurt, if you need help..._

A stronger wind picked up around her. For a moment, she thought she heard a voice in it – no words, but sounds – like a moan or cry. Tightening her scans, her mind sought the source but failed to detect anything. The wind died as quickly as it had started and no sentient thoughts remained. Discouraged, she turned back.

Rejoining Logan, she leaned against him with her eyes closed and felt his arms hold her gently.

“Hook bein’ shy?”

Jean nodded. “I almost had her.” Pulling back to look at him, she touched his face. “Why don’t you tackle the herding and I’ll keep trying. I can’t track them effectively, anyway. When you bring them in, I’ll help you take them down to Reece.”

“Not all o’ ‘em went huntin’ – watch yer back.”

He kissed her and she responded warmly. She perched on her rock outcropping and watched him as he followed a trail that the wind had already destroyed beyond her ability to detect it.

The cold was intense, numbing body and mind. Tucking her skirt around her, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on one of them, closing her eyes once more. Her telepathy ranged out, seeking human thoughts.

 Again, the vague hint of a sentient watcher found her and toyed with her. As if playing hide and seek, it sought to lure her up and out into the snow. Resisting the pull of temptation, she tried to make her opponent communicate.

Shivering, lost in concentration, Jean ceased to listen to anything but the moaning echo in the breeze.

She woke with a start moments later, horrified that she had been lulled into sleep.  _Are you doing that?_  she asked the entity Logan had named Hook.

A growl behind her made her turn sharply, hoping to see her feral friend. Out of the hypnotizing white of the landscape, a long shaft swung into her line of sight. Before her telekinesis could strike, a blow fell on the side of her head and turned the world black.

~ ~ ~

Jean kept her eyes closed when she first regained consciousness, a trick she’d learned from Logan years ago. Listening to her surroundings first, she carefully tried to assess by means other than sight precisely what her predicament might be.

The memory of the lesson drifted through her mind.  _I asked him what the first step was, and he said: ‘Wakin’ up at all – without that, tha rest ain’t much help.’_   _Okay, step one accomplished. Now what?_

Soft sounds could be heard, but they weren’t too close. Her palms pressed down flat on either side of her body as she sniffed the air.

 _Fur over stone, so I’m in the caves. Any chance Logan’s already found and rescued me?_  Another stroke of the fur ended that hope.  _This is too long and soft to be our elk – it’s the bear-dog pelt._ Wrinkling her nose, she frowned.  _They stripped it off and laid it flesh-side-down, without curing it. So, odds being what they are, I’m in enemy territory._

The only one who hadn’t gone hunting was the big leader of the cavemen. If he had knocked her out and brought her to his den, it couldn’t be for a good reason.

 _How stereotypical can we get? I hope he didn’t drag me here by my hair_. Warily, she opened her eyes, but it was a useless gesture; the cavern was pitch dark.  _Great. When Tarzan gets his mind back, he’s going to laugh his ass off at Jane, who took a nap and got claimed by the opposition. Unless..._ She drew her breath in sharply.  _If Logan finds out before he has his mind back, he’ll kill his rival outright, won’t he?_ She struggled to rise with her hand up to protect her head.   _I’ve got to get out of here before he figures out what happened. I can’t let him kill this idiot, personal offense aside._

Her movement alerted her captor, but he would be easy to handle. Discovery of a name or real identity in a mind so overtaken by primitive drives might take time and finely tuned skill – but punching through those drives to reach the brain’s control centers was quick and easy, made even simpler by her new disregard for the feelings and privacy of others.

Tagging him with her telepathy, she broke through the resistant static of his thoughts and forced him to move back out of her way.

Going by feel and the caveman leader’s knowledge of his den and the path up and out of it, she moved quickly, allowing him to follow her. As soon as she could set a compulsion in his mind to sit and wait for the others, she could just add him to the herd when Logan brought them in.

Getting him under her control might have been simple, but keeping him under control was a slippery business; the animal mind was hard to get a lock on. It was easier than dealing with Logan’s inner beast, whether he was feral or not, but not by much. When she snagged the man, she realized the compulsion would have to be monitored closely, or it could slip.

She didn’t notice that she’d been holding her breath until a gleam of sunlight appeared higher up in the tunnel. The newly enthralled man behind her tagged along placidly, though in his mind, he fought against her control instinctively.

 _Be glad you’re dealing with Jane, mister. Tarzan would eat your lunch._ Smiling, she gave him another mental prod as they neared the open air.  _Unk, Bwana, let’s get a move on._

Entering Broadway, she saw that Logan had already brought in part of his quarry. On the opposite side of the massive cavern, Andy and the other caveman were huddled together.

_Where is the woman – and why do they look terrified?_

Abruptly, she felt the stare. Turning to the cave entrance, she startled, a thrill of unreasoning fear making her tense. The creature that crouched there, claws out and ready to spring, was covered in blood. With his healing factor intact, she didn’t need to fear that he was hurt, but meeting that stare chilled her soul. The beast that stared balefully back at her was Logan in body only.

The crystal blue of his eyes, normally full of the experience of his unknown age, were reduced to blank slits of brutal menace. The fanged snarl and horrific growls made the fine hairs on her body stand up.

It was worse than the feral regression had ever been and the focus of the beast was on the man who stood behind her, a being with no chance of defending himself against the Wolverine.

Jean didn’t realize her control on her short-term captor had faltered until she heard him make his childish human growl in response to his rival.

Wolverine roared a deafening challenge that echoed around them and spiraled down into the tunnels. The other men fell on their faces instantly, looking away from both of them, submissive and whimpering.

Desperate to end the confrontation, she slapped her mental compulsion back on the man, rendering him immobile. Taking a deep breath, she tried to prepare herself to stop the mutant bullet-train, hoping he would still recognize her as his mate if she failed to control him.

Wolverine jumped, not around her, but over her head. She slammed the caveman’s brain with a command that dropped him to the floor of the cavern on his belly. It was intended to get him out of harm’s way, though it left her in the rabid mutant’s path.

Jean abandoned her attempt to slice through his mind and grabbed him in a panic with her telekinesis. The raging roar was strangled in a sharp snarl of fear as he was caught and held in the air, unable to move a second later.

She had fallen to one knee to catch him and avoid the claws at once. Her hands held up, she felt the greater of her mutant powers strain against his strength, but it held him.

Lowering him slowly, she set him down on the stone floor. Her breath coming fast, she gambled on letting him go.

 _I can’t let you fear my power to the point of attacking me for using it against you,_  she told him, hoping the thought might reach even the feral mind with some impression of her non-threatening intent.  _So here goes, but if you try to hurt these people, I will stop you._

She crouched and then sat in front of the big caveman as she carefully released her friend from the pressure of her power.

He shook his head like a dog and growled. Immediately, he started toward his rival, but struck an invisible wall. With a snarl, he tried to bite at it, but couldn’t press through it.

The feral eyes gleamed as the frustrated beast growled his displeasure. Yet his glare was on the rival – did he make the connection that the force that wouldn’t allow him to reach him originated from his mate?

Jean reached out to the other two cavemen as well, and held them all with her telepathy, keeping them down, prone, and non-aggressive.

To her surprise, Wolverine stopped trying to get at their leader and his rage seemed to leak away. Approaching her in a doglike crouch on hands and feet, he sniffed at the hand she held out to him. When he came closer, she stroked his sideburns as she had before and felt him lean into the touch.

 _What did you say about speaking Wendy’s new language?_  Jean thought of dogs and wolves, and then she remembered how the mutant Wolfsbane had once greeted Logan when she’d been in her wolf form. Sighing, she smiled.  _If Storm could see me now..._  Moving slowly, she turned her head and licked his rough jaw.

The change in his body language and the release of tension and rage she felt from his animal mind was almost instantaneous. A moment later, he nuzzled her neck and shoulder.

When she could breathe evenly, she relaxed a little, but kept her hold on the others. If he approached them, she was prepared to shield them again.

Yet Wolverine seemed convinced that she was still his and the prone silence of the others didn’t provoke him. He moved a distance away from them all, still crouched like an animal, and watched the white snow outside, unblinking in the glare of the sun.

She finally had the opportunity to study him and noticed that the blood on his body and loincloth was a wet pattern of sprays and smears.

 _From fighting bear-dogs? I hope that’s not the blood of the woman we’re missing. Either way, did they hurt her? Or..._  Shaking her head, she frowned.  _You wouldn’t kill a defenseless female, even this far gone. So where is she?_

When Wolverine turned back to her after a few moments of sniffing the air, he tried to sniff at the cavemen, too, but Jean threw her TK shield up between them, afraid that he could strike faster than she could react.

He crouched and growled at them for a while, but then seemed to accept that he couldn’t reach them. He settled abruptly beside her, lay down on his side and closed his eyes.

She watched his side heave, noticing for the first time that he was tired – maybe close to worn out.

 _Not a mark to show for a fight, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t tear you up before you got them. Still, you brought me Andy and his friend, maybe against stiff odds?_  Thinking of the woman, she swallowed hard.  _I guess I’ll hear about it when you go away and I get Logan back._

~ ~ ~

Without the depths of the caverns lessening his exposure to Hook’s influence, it was a while before Logan’s healing factor brought his mind back to her. When he first twitched and rose, she wasn’t sure he was sane again, until he spoke.

“Need a cigar an’ a good single malt after that,” the gruff voice said. He sat up and faced her. “What’d I miss?”

Jean tried to keep her story short and to the point, attempting to gloss over why she had appeared from below with the caveman behind her. She should have known it wouldn’t work. Feral or not, his heightened senses missed nothing.

“So ya got ‘is scent on ya in all tha spots he touched t’ carry ya downstairs –”

“Okay, okay,” she interrupted. “I was scanning for Hook and he bamboozled me, whacked me with a bone and carted me off. Satisfied?”

“Hardly,” he replied, but a smirk was tugging at his lips. “I almost nailed tha bastard, though. What part o’ ‘watch yer back’ did ya miss?”

“The part where I could swear Hook was trying to lull me to sleep.” Her irritation at his teasing made the words sharp.

Logan rose and walked to the entrance, staring out over the snow. “Easy, Jeannie – no harm done.” Scenting the air once, he added, “At least ya proved ya can stop me.”

“Where is the woman? Did something...” She hesitated, and then met his eyes when he turned and asked again. “Did something happen to her? Out there?”

“It’s still hazy – but I don’t think I found ‘er at all. I remember tha tracks an’ that they seemed t’ have separated, but maybe she wasn’t with ‘em t’ begin with. Maybe they weren’t huntin’ meat, neither. These two,” he gestured to Andy and the other man, “mighta been lookin’ fer ‘er.”

“Why would she go off and risk her life alone?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe she recovered ‘nuff t’ remember ‘erself an’ wanted tha hell away from grunt boy over there. Not that he didn’t try t’ replace ‘er damn quick.”

“Or Hook might have lured her out? She was trying to get me out there, I’m sure of it.”

“Coulda been, I guess.”

“Well, we’ve lost the morning now; if you’ve taught me anything about reading time by the sun, it’s around noon. Andy and Reece seem to think that midnight and midday are the worst times to try and leave this place.” Sighing, she added, “I hope that woman is still alive out there.”

“Can’t be helped. Ya were sleepin’ off yer kidnappin’ an’ I was busy pickin’ fights t’ keep those two from bein’ lunch.” Looking down at himself, Logan snorted. “Need ‘nother trip t’ tha bathhouse – but first, I gotta idea.”

“Is that bear-dog blood, then?”

“Yeah. If we want more o’ their skins, they’re out there fer tha takin’, but I’d rather keep my brains fer now.”

He had started toward Andy and knelt down beside him. When he rolled him to his back, the former park ranger cringed and offered his throat with a whimper.

“What are you doing?”

“Solvin’ tha ‘who’s boss’ question, once an’ fer all. Oughta prevent future mate theft, too. Sit tight, Jeannie, I won’t hurt ‘em.”

She frowned in distaste as she watched him take Andy’s throat in his teeth. “I put a stop to that just fine, thanks.”

Logan repeated the process with the other man and then moved over to the big one who had tried to take her. “Yeah, an’ then traipsed ‘im in front o’ my inner beast with ‘is smell on ya. Teachin’ ‘im which lines not t’ cross heads that shit off at tha pass.”

Jean couldn’t help wincing when he closed his mouth on the other man’s throat, though the bestial act didn’t repulse her as it once might have. It made her realize how she might be changing in this place and the thought of it made her shudder.

*****************************************************************

The noon sun lanced down at an angle into the mouth of Mammoth Cave, but it had no warmth to give. Another shiver ran through her as she watched Logan return to her. The others remained huddled, afraid of their new boss.

“Fast thinkin’, though, makin’ ‘im drop an’ cower,” he offered.

“I got him down to get him out of the way of your claws.”

Logan looked up at her, alerted by her casual tone.  _Is she gettin’ used t’ all tha parts o’ me she didn’t wanna see before? Maybe tha Boy Scout should watch out after all. Tha grittier Jean gets, tha more she seems t’ have a taste fer tha ol’ Canucklehead – without whitewashin’ me, neither. Other times, she starts t’ smell like tha guilt-ridden Jean, too. Which one’ll win? Anyone’s guess, bub. Place yer bets._ “Still,” he answered her, “it translated in beast-speak t’ submission – makes tha critter relax faster.” Something in her face made him cock his head at her. “What is it?”

Jean shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just glad it worked, and I – did that to. Not the throat thing, but I – I licked your jaw.”

“How’d ya know ‘bout that?”

“I saw Wolfsbane do it once.”

“She’s a pup, like Wendy. That’s acknowledgin’ leadership t’ an elder. Fer these boys, it’s losin’ a challenge. Yer neither.” He thought about it, but only vague memories of the incident came through. Shrugging, he added, “Well, maybe ya usin’ yer TK t’ keep me off ‘em was seen as a challenge o’ sorts. Better safe than sorry, huh?” He rose to his feet again and faced her.

“When you’re feral, you can sense that the power comes from me?”

“Yup. Tha beastie can feel it in tha air an’ knows yer tha source. Tha first time, he thought it might be attackin’ ya, but not fer long.”

“Oh. Well, then, yes – better safe than sorry.”

Logan sighed and held her arms gently. “Don’t worry, Jeannie – I won’t hurt ya. Tha man in me might be trespassin’, but tha animal side thinks yer ‘is. He won’t attack ‘is mate.”

“What about in the dream? I was inside your hunting dream. It was so real and you were chasing me like a rabbit. Your claws cut my hair.”

“Deer,” he replied, “an’ once I knew ya were there, tha rules changed.” He stepped up closer to her until their bodies touched. “Didn’t they?” When he pulled her into a kiss, her fear seemed to intensify her response.  _She knows she’s gettin’ wilder, though she’s not sure she likes it yet – but tha further she comes over t’ my way o’ thinkin’, tha more tha beast in me attracts ‘er._  He broke off the kiss before they ended up consummating his new theory in front of the neighbors. “Let’s get these guys down t’ Reece, then I’ll go topside again an’ hunt fer tha woman. My bath can wait.”

“No – I’ll herd them down. Every minute counts out there and we’ve lingered long enough on pack politics.”

“Ya sure ya can hold ‘em all?”

“Yes, when I’m awake,” she answered.

Logan smiled and chucked her playfully under her chin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Red. Learnin’ tha wilderness survival game takes time – but it oughta be easier now that they know I’m tha ‘leader o’ tha pack’.”

“If I get stuck on that stupid song later, I’m going to hurt you.”

Laughing, he headed back outside. “Then I’m safer out here. See ya later, Jeannie.”

“Don’t go too far,” she answered, worry for him obvious in her voice.

“Ya sure?” He turned and winked at her. “Tha place still might turn out t’ be Bowlin’ Green if ya go far ‘nuff. It’s only thirty miles in tha real world.”

“If it is, bring me a Big Mac. Or anything not fresh off the hoof.”

It was good to see her smile. “Ya got it.”

~ ~ ~

The hunt continued. The others stalked doggedly after him, but kept their distance now. Their yapping and howling grew more agitated as he continued to follow the female’s trail.

When the wind shifted, a faint scent of blood could be detected on it. Growling, he turned to seek out the source of it.

The enemies grew bolder around him when he found his quarry. Between one snow drift and another, the female had been partially buried in the snow like a cache of meat. She was wounded and deeply asleep. Sheathing his claws, he began to dig her out.

Over one shoulder, he noted the largest of the brindle males as it ran near, snarling. He ignored it until it loped closer and began to charge him.

A flash of his claws opened his enemy’s shoulder and the howl of pain frightened its pack mates, driving them back. Yet the brindle wasn’t giving up and he had to return the injured female to the den.

Roaring to deter the others, he sheathed his claws and crouched to meet their leader. When it leapt on him, the claws extended through the brindle’s chest and dropped it, twitching and whining, into the snow.

Claws dripping, he straightened and looked back toward the distant mountain den.

~ ~ ~

Logan returned to himself in Reece’s phosphorous cave. He had already placed the others around him by scent before opening his eyes. Nearest to him were Jean and Reece. They were bent over the woman he’d taken away from the bear-dogs. Beyond them, the trio of cavemen seemed to be in various stages of remembering who they were, with Andy in the lead and their former leader coming in last.

The next thing he noticed was that the dried blood he’d worn earlier had been added to. His question broke the silence and made them all jump. “How’s she doin’?”

“Not good,” Jean replied without looking away from their patient. “Those creatures tore her up?”

“I’d say yes goin’ by smell an’ sight.” Logan thought about the oddity that had bothered him since the memory of finding the woman had started to clear. “There was somethin’ odd in their behavior, though. They had ‘er half hid, like stashed meat from a fresh kill fer later – but they didn’t sample their prey at all, just sliced ‘er up with claws.”

“Thankfully,” Jean responded. “Why is it unusual?”

“Animals like that wouldn’t bring down prey they didn’t intend t’ eat. Other reasons fer killin’ – territory, challenge – not really an issue in ‘er case.” Logan looked at Reece who was watching him intently. “Ya said they’ve been killin’ mutants an’ males that carry tha genes fer mutation. She’s neither. If they saw ‘er as prey, they wouldn’t take ‘er as a challenger or a trespasser, but they didn’t take a nibble. They had ‘er immobile an’ saved fer later fer somethin’ else.”

Reece nodded and looked away, busying himself with first aid again. He stitched the deeper gashes with gut thread from his tanning enterprise. The cavemen watched them all, mute and afraid.

Jean met Logan’s gaze. “I’m not convinced they are animals. They can’t be scanned and I can detect the mental signatures of mammals well enough to know that they’re there. Sometimes, when I know nothing’s out there, you’ve told me you smell them, even see them.” She glanced down at Reece as he stitched. “They appear to be quite real while we’re trapped here, but there’s some other explanation for them; there has to be.” She paused, and then added, “Reece believes our secretive telepath is making them, that they, and this reality, are manifested by her, to control anyone she catches in her net. It would explain your elk and antelope, and our firewood. She’s taking images from our minds and making them real.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Like Proteus without tha nauseatin’ twisted visions?”

“Something like that, but he altered our perceptions of the normal reality. Here, we’re being given a new sort of world, one ‘normal’ enough to believe without question for most.”

“Sure, if yer brains are set back t’ one million BC. Anybody who landed in this valley by modern means knows they ain’t in Kentucky anymore. Tha meat’s real – we’ve all been eatin’ it – but tha elk were odd, too … grazin’ on snow fer one.” Eyeing Jean thoughtfully, he added, “Don’t bet on telepathy always pickin’ up an animal’s mind, neither. Critters can be slippery li’l bastards when they need t’ be.”

She looked like she wanted to argue the point, but then shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to their patient.

Reece finished stitching and studied his efforts. “That’s the best we can do here. I’ll watch over her.” He stood and faced them. “Perhaps most of the animals are a sort of hallucination and the ones we interact with are made fully real individually.”

Logan frowned. “It’s a hallucination that has smells, makes sounds, an’ leaves tracks.” An abrupt thought made his expression darken. “I remember, tha first time I came back t’ ya feral, Red – I passed my own tracks in tha snow but when I went out there that first time, there wasn’t any snow.”

“Well, let’s save some mystery for later,” Jean said. “I need a nap and you need a bath.” She headed for the tunnel, but turned back to speak to Reece again. “I want to talk to the rest of them when they’re human again.”

“I’d give them another few hours,” he replied. “The woman may not be awake.”

“I’ll be back. I may be able to help with her, too.”

~ ~ ~

Logan walked with Jean back to their den, grabbed his cigar case, and then veered off to Gorin’s Dome. After an invigorating bath in the freezing water, he headed up to the entrance cavern before rejoining Jean.

 _Two stogies, two matches – she’s disapprovin’, but merciful._ He lit one of the cigars and tucked the case in the top of his loincloth.

Out in the white glare of sun on snow, the bear-dogs were more active than ever before. There were more of them, too. From distant gray and black figures, to the animals that padded closer to the caverns, they were all in an agitated state – snuffling and growling through the snow.

Logan watched them as the cigar burned down, mulling over what they were and what they couldn’t be.

A familiar scent struck his nose and turned him sharply in time to see a huge brindle male stalk around the corner of the rocks. It sniffed right up to the edge of the snow, saw him, and crouched, snarling.

 _I’ll be damned – that’s tha same brute I skewered earlier._ “Ya gotta twin?” he asked it. “Nope, yer tha one – tha nose don’t lie, bub.” Logan took an aggressive stance and with a ~snikt~, popped all six of his claws. “Why won’t ya enter tha caves, ya ugly shit? Do they spook ya, or ain’t ya allowed?”

Its body language told him it was desperate to get at him, but it wouldn’t enter the cave to do so. Taking the stub of his cigar out of his teeth, he tossed it at it – smirking when its rows of needle teeth snapped it into slices.

“I could bring tha fight t’ ya, just t’ prove I can keep ya dead this time, but let’s play without gettin’ yer blood all over me – already had my bath. Ya mind me takin’ unfair advantage? No? ‘Preciate it.”

He advanced no more than eight feet away from the cavern, intending to retreat if Hook tried to push him over the redline into feral. As he had assumed, the bear-dog instantly prepared to spring.

“Ya don’t learn from past experience, huh? Fine by me.” His claws retracted with a loud ~snakt~. Moving a fist to the center of his chest, Logan crouched and waited for his opponent to jump him.

It came fast when it leapt, fast and powerful – but Logan had fought better foes for longer than he could remember. It was a simple matter of popping one claw and using the animal’s own weight and momentum to stab through its heart as it came down over him. With a twist of his body, he turned its trajectory, forcing it to fall at his side. He stabbed his claw in a little farther for good measure before retracting it.

Satisfied, he waited for it to stop twitching before he hauled it inside the cavern to skin it.

~ ~ ~

“Where did that come from?” Jean asked.

Logan dumped the fur near the fire before nestling the bear-dog’s shorn skull at the edge of the hot coals to ready the brains for tanning. “A housewarmin’ present from tha bear-dog I killed this mornin’. After killin’ it again – just now.”

“Oh.” She moved out of the entrance to the sleeping cave.

“Gotta tell ya, Jeannie, I expected more surprise fer that bit o’ news.” He settled down near the fur, moving it a little farther away from their fire pit.

She sat on the other side of the fire. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you something I learned from Reece and Andy while you were feral before, a while back.”

“Catch me up.”

“The reason they all thought you couldn’t kill a bear-dog – Andy saw two of them clash when they both charged him at once. He dove for the snow and rolled out of the way, but one of them killed the other. The surviving one seemed to miss him and chased his companions in another direction. The big man found Andy again later and they dragged the bear-dog corpse to the cavern mouth so they could get the fur and meat. Then the monster just woke up and attacked them. They ran into the caves to get away from it, but it nearly killed them both.”

“Might help if we knew why they don’t like tha caverns.”

“I’m sleeping better knowing that.” Jean smiled.

“Yeah, but I think it’s got t’ do with Hook, if she made ‘em. She’s afraid t’ be underground, or doesn’t want ‘em in here fer ‘nother reason. One more thing – I don’t think tha bear-dogs are eatin’ elk, or any other game.”

“Why not?”

“They ignored tha elk herd. Not in an ‘I’m not hungry so ya don’t interest me’ way, neither. They didn’t seem t’ see ‘em, like only I could.”

“Maybe Hook has them eating people?”

“Naw, it don’t wash. They probly don’t eat at all. There’s no scent marks anywhere, no scat. They just kill, ‘cept when they immobilized tha woman. If tha bear-dogs are parts o’ Hook, why does she need t’ make ‘em catch someone?”

Jean held herself and shuddered. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Logan watched her, ready to gauge her response. “Bet Reece knows.”

“There’s no point in going back down now until the others are able to tell us something. I’ll check on them in a bit.” Probably to deter him from applying thumb-screws to Waldo right away, Jean added, “We need the alpha wolf to go hunting again. The meat runs out faster when you have a pack to feed.”

Sighing, he nodded and tossed his cigar case next to one of the candles. “While yer waitin’, could ya give this a scrape with yer TK? I’ll brain goo it when I get back with supper. Tha bastard can’t come back t’ life if he’s tanned.”

“Sure.”

 _Yer afraid I’ll rough Reece up, I guess,_ he thought, unconcerned if she picked it up or not. Aloud, he said, “We can ask nice an’ hope fer tha truth just so long, Red, but that man knows somethin’ he ain’t shared yet. In a place like this, what ya dunno can kill ya an’ probly will.” Logan got up then and went out to hunt without another word, but he didn’t assume Jean’s silence implied agreement.  _If she can’t get Reece t’ confess all he knows peaceably, it’ll be tha ol’ Canucklehead’s turn. Odds are, he’d rather deal with tha lady._

*****************************************************************

Jean stared down at the tanned leather that covered the woman’s body.  _Who were you? Just a tourist who lost her way?_  “Did you know her?” she asked Andy.

“No.” The park ranger looked away from the body.

“How about you?” she addressed the other two recovered cavemen. Reece quietly watched them all.

“Don’t know who she is,” the big man replied, sullen and evasive.

“No, I’m sorry,” the other man added.

Jean slipped a subtle probe into their minds. “So – do you know who you are?”

The man sitting next to Andy answered first. “George Patterson. I came to see the Mammoth Cave on vacation. I’m from Rhode Island.”

When Jean turned to the big man, he frowned, glaring up at her. “From Bowlin’ Green. Travis Kendall.”

Patterson checked out fine: normal guy on a road trip, worried about his young wife who had been traveling with him. Kendall’s mind resisted the probe, though he didn’t seem consciously aware of it – yet. She pressed it further until it hit a block she’d have to announce her presence to break.

 _A man to watch, feral or not,_  she thought.  _His mind is full of anger, mostly at women. He doesn’t know how I beat him, but he knows I did and he’s pretty ticked about it._ Facing Reece, she sat beside him on his shelf, holding her antler torch to one side. “Did she lose too much blood?”

“I don’t think so. She seemed about to revive, and then she went into a fit, possibly epileptic. I tried restraining her, but ... she died. I don’t know much about epilepsy, I’m afraid. Of course, it could have been a heart attack.”

Watching him a moment, she looked back down at the covered form on the cave floor. The other men were sitting back away from it, a study of the stages of shock showing on their faces.

 _I want to believe you, Reece, but I don’t. You shield your mind with skill, well enough to make me think a telepath has taught you a few tricks of the trade. I can’t tell what or why yet, but I know you’re hiding something, and I know you’re lying to me about something, too. How this woman died? Or maybe you’re lying about knowing who she is?_  Jean rose and addressed them all. “Stay down here and keep your brains. Wolverine and I will bring you food. Reece, show them how to get water. I’ll bring your furs down, too. We need to make a plan, and soon. Once Wolverine recovers again, we’ll come down and discuss options.”

“Yes, and we can bury this poor soul,” Reece said.

“Don’t get too industrious. We mean to get out of here and when we do, we’ll have to bring the police to find her.”

“A cairn, then – to protect the body; I know a cave that will be suitable.”

She nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

As Jean entered the tunnels on her way to fetch furs for them, she turned the mystery of the woman’s capture by bear-dogs, and her death, over and over in her mind.

Somewhere above, Logan was back from his hunt. She had heard him howl once and assumed he would find her as he had before. So far, she didn’t hear him coming, but she’d learned that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

Abruptly, she did hear someone approaching with stealth behind her. She spun and lashed out with her TK, freezing the man Kendall in place. His surprise was captured on his face until she adjusted her power to allow him the use of his head and tongue.

“Was coming to help,” he spluttered. “Woman alone … might need help.”

“Or might be vulnerable? Think again, Mr. Kendall.”

“Not out to hurt you, girl.”

“‘Hurt’ can be defined creatively by some people. You may not remember, but you tried to make me your new toy before, after the woman left the caves, and I’m betting she wouldn’t have appreciated your attentions, either.”

“Don’t remember it. You got power, you’re a mutie – can’t take a mutie on. Just meant to help.”

Jean frowned. “We prefer to be called mutants. ‘Mutie’ is a slur, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“My people say mutie, that’s all – never had another name for it. Don’t mean no harm.”

“Remind me not to visit. I’m going to let you go and you can help fetch and carry, but if you try anything, I’ll stick you to the floor again. After that, your options get thinner. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

She allowed him to walk in front of her and gather his furs and anything else he wanted from their caves himself. He must have gotten used to the tunnels, for he often walked outside the reach of her torchlight.

Deciding not to look for Logan while she was with his feral side’s former rival, she directed the man back down to Reece, following after him at a distance.

Her probes were at work the entire time she allowed him to assist with moving the housewares. No longer caring if he detected the intrusion, she broke through three mental blocks in quick succession, finding darker and more unpleasant definitions behind each one for words like hurt and help.

_A rapist and killer, perfect – this one lives, while that poor woman dies._

Ahead of her, he disappeared into the Rotunda. Jean entered warily, but didn’t immediately see him.

“No games, Kendall. Show yourself, now.” Taking another few steps, her foot struck something and she tripped. Stumbling, she moved her antler torch to find the man lying stretched out on the floor, eyes closed. “What the hell?” She prodded his side with her boot toe. “Get up, Mr. Kendall. You’re conscious; I can sense your mind.”

He moved fast, grabbing her ankles and pitching her onto her back. The breath was knocked out of her when she hit and his full weight pressed her down a second later. The torch had flown from her hand, but its fire was still lit.

The man’s hands descended, one to her mouth and the other to her throat. Before he could choke or silence her, she assaulted him with her TK, freezing him instantly. His body stiffened in the posture of a man intent on murder. The tendons of his thick neck stood out, the hands halted, though still in the position of attempting to throttle and quiet her.

Rage boiled in her as she forced his hand away from her mouth. “Son of a bitch!” Adrenaline pumping, she glared up at him. “If we pass a drop-off full of stalagmites, you’d better pray I remember I’m civilized.”

He didn’t answer because she hadn’t allowed him to. She began to lift him off of her with her TK, cursing under her breath.

A roar of rage, almost in her ear, stiffened her in shock and fear as effectively as she had bound the man. When his body was struck by another, tumbling away across the floor, Jean screamed.

She struggled to her knees, lashing her telekinesis out at the Wolverine. “No! He’s –”

Seconds before she could snag his strength and assert control, she saw his fangs flash in the torchlight as they tore out the helpless man’s throat.

He felt her power and turned, sensing an attack, and snarled viciously at her. Horrified, she retracted her TK into a shield between them.

Terror and guilt ripped through her in sobs, nausea threatening at the sight of the man called Kendall, dead in an instant while held frozen by her telekinesis. Sinking over her knees, holding herself tightly, she closed her eyes, a groan escaping her lips.

A snarl alerted her and her head snapped up to look at Wolverine. He was moving forward in a feral crouch, snarling at something behind her.

“Gentlemen, keep very still,” Reece’s voice whispered. “It seems we’ve found the cause of the disturbance.”

Jean almost fell to her side when she whipped around to face them. Catching herself on her hands, she cried out, “Get out of here, now!”

“Don’t move!” Reece warned them. Andy and George stopped. “We can’t run, Ms. Phoenix. He would pursue and kill us.”

Jean watched Wolverine creep closer to them. The grace he possessed while moving a humanoid body like a canine predator made her shudder. He seemed more at ease in his body now than he ever did walking upright like a man.

She could hold him, but it had made him more savage a moment ago. “I can shield you – back up into the tunnel; I can stop him from reaching you.”

“I dealt with predators before I turned my work to the study of mutants, my dear, and this problem is one that will repeat itself as long as we remain here. We must convince this fellow he’s the alpha of our little pack, and it will require a show of submission after Mr. Kendall broke ranks and challenged his right to his mate.” As Reece spoke, he knelt and to Jean’s shock, he lay down on his back before the advancing mutant. “Andy, George – do what I do; it will be all right.”

“You’re crazy,” George answered, his voice cracking with fear. “It’ll kill us!”

Reece closed his eyes and turned his head away, lifting his chin to the feral beast. His voice came in a careful whisper. “If you don’t do this – yes, he will kill you.”

Andy had already begun to obey. When he saw that, George nervously copied them.

“Do not look at him,” Reece whispered as Wolverine came up to him, sniffing. “Give him your throat and look away. He will grasp it in his teeth and release you.”

“Crazy...” George muttered, but did as he said.

Jean watched helplessly as the beast that was her friend took Reece by the throat. His slight hiss of indrawn breath told her that the fang teeth had pierced skin.

Wolverine released him and moved on to the others. They moaned and trembled, but survived the experience. She heard George murmuring desperate prayers as the beast let him go and turned away.

She startled when he came to her. Staring at him blankly, she realized she’d forgotten to keep her shield in place. Afraid, she almost used his name. Remembering that they weren’t alone, his codename fell from trembling lips. “Wolverine ... it’s me, your mate.” When he snarled at her, she gasped. “No – no harm to mate ... remember…?”

“Phoenix,” Reece called to her, his tone soft and unthreatening, “you struck out at him with your talents when his dominance had been challenged. You must submit to regain his protection.”

 _Oh, God ... Logan? Logan, please..._  She sank down to her chest before rolling to her back. Tears fell down her cheeks as her eyes closed and she turned her head away, offering him her throat like an animal. The fangs descended, pierced, and drew blood.

~ ~ ~

“Jean? Jeannie?” His fingers touched her shoulder.

“Don’t!” She flinched away, burying her face in the long stiff elk fur.

His confusion and concern washed over her, spiked with hurt and fear. “Jean ... I won’t touch ya but I gotta know – are ya hurt?”

Stifling a sob, she whispered, “No...”

She heard him leave her. Lifting her head, she looked out toward the light of the fire as he built it up again.

 _When I went outside,_ she thought privately, _and that ... that thing changed me, it was strange and thrilling. The freedom of not caring what I did, the release of taking something I couldn’t have but wanted anyway – it was exciting. I’ve been in the caverns since, slowly recovering, as he does._

Wiping at her face, she steeled herself to deal with the fallout of the last few hours. Travis Kendall’s death was largely her fault and the beast was not the same being as the man she called Logan.

 _I don’t want to do this, any of it. If I can’t escape it ... I’d rather be that strange uncaring woman again – callous, unaware of whom she hurts and unconcerned about any of it._ As her civilized senses returned, she knew the guilt was coming with them – for the dead man and for her torn and mangled union. Scott would never understand.  _So he can’t ever know,_  she thought, her mouth hardening in a frown.

*****************************************************************

The beast inside was exultant – the rival was dead, the pack and mate, his. Turning away from the memory of it, the man called Logan felt sick.

He didn’t watch Jean emerge from the sleeping cave. Placing the rubbed and rolled bear-dog skin aside to cure, he sat by the fire and stared into it.

“It doesn’t hold the answers,” Jean whispered.

“Neither do I.”

“He was under my power, Logan.”

“Don’t try t’ make this yer fault.” He looked up at her at last. “Tha man was tryin’ t’ murder ya. If ya hadn’t clapped ‘im with yer TK, he coulda done it. Don’t say ya shoulda seen me comin’, neither. In that state, Chuck couldn’t detect me in time an’ ya know it.”

“But if –”

“No, Jeannie. No. Ask Magneto. I had ‘is guts opened up before Chuck even knew I was goin’ t’ strike. That level o’ rage, tha animal mind – it’s too slippery fer a telepath. Ain’t no thought between desire an’ damage.” He took a deep breath, released it slowly. “What Mags did t’ me after, yankin’ my adamantium outta me while tryin’ t’ hold ‘is entrails in place – that left its mark on tha beast, too. He looks fer that second attack now, tha unseen one – an’ he don’t react well when it comes. Hell, it made ‘im even faster – or did ya forget how I stabbed Mags in Genosha not so long ago, before any o’ ya could blink? Man’s probly still in a wheelchair.”

“You can’t blame yourself for Kendall. You were...”

She drifted off, her face paling slightly at the images that might never leave her mind when she looked at him. He knew the expression well.

He’d seen it once on Mariko Yashida’s face, after she had witnessed him murdering dozens of warriors of the Hand in a red haze of brutal rage. It was an expression that haunted his nightmares, though the face that displayed it might morph and change into others that had shared the horror of it.

“I’m sorry that I... I’m just sorry, Jeannie.”

He was surprised when she sat beside him and startled when her hands touched his face, her thumbs stroking his sideburns.

“We should try to just forget it, worry about it when we get out of here – but first, we have a cairn to build.” She sighed. “The cavewoman is dead, too. Reece claims it was either a seizure or a heart attack, but he’s not telling me the whole truth. I’d like you to take a look at her, see what you think.”

Logan nodded listlessly. He knew her too well, knew the brave face she was putting on her fear – her fear of him.

Her thought slipped into his mind gently.  _The beast frightens me, yes – but not you._ Leaning close, she kissed his forehead.

“He is me,” he whispered, “an’ sometimes I’m afraid tha line that separates us is gettin’ thinner. I know ya like t’ tell yerself we ain’t tha same, but … fact is, I got no idea which o’ us came first an’ I’m not sure tha man in me is tha dominant side at all.”

“You know, even deep in your feral state, I could link to thoughts and you communicated with me. I was afraid, but – you didn’t hurt me. I’ve been dealing with some things too, aspects of myself I haven’t wanted to face.”

“If ya wanna talk ‘bout it…?”

“Not really, and we don’t have time just now.” Jean got up and held her hand out to him. “Aren’t we lucky we have a mystery to distract us?” When he rose, he took her hand and kissed it before she turned away. “We need to find out why Reece might lie about the woman’s death, or her identity. One or both is a deep dark secret.”

He knew it was intended to take them off the subject of their changing situation. Having no answers for that either, he took her bait and began to mull the problem of Reece over as a way to keep his sanity from splintering.

~ ~ ~

As the others covered Travis Kendall’s body with stones, Logan uncovered the stones from the leather blanket that hid the former cavewoman’s face. By flickering torchlight, he studied her waxen features.

Crouching down to touch her cheek, he scented the skin of her face and neck, a frown sparking a low involuntary growl.

“What is it?” Jean asked.

He didn’t answer. Rigor mortis had set in, but there was a lot to discover yet. Looking closely at her eyes, the growl returned. They were milky now, but he could still detect the mass of broken blood vessels covering the surface of the eyes. It was a sign he’d seen before – and not a good indication of an innocent death.

Logan’s head lifted before his body straightened, staring at Reece. The anthropologist was placing a final stone over Kendall’s corpse, an expression of regret hanging on his face like a mask.

A snarl of anger ripped from Logan’s throat before he was even aware of it. He fought for control as his instincts tried to kick over civilization and allow the beast to mete out justice.

When he thought he could lay hands on the man without killing him outright, he crossed the cave in three strides, seized Reece by the shirt and one wrist and propelled him, shouting, out and up the tunnel. The others, shocked, followed in a rush.

They emerged into Broadway from Audubon Avenue. Reece babbled, asking for a reason for the man-handling haul to the surface. Jean hurried after, trying to reason with him to let the man go. Andy and George came last. They were bewildered and wanted to help Reece, but they were too afraid of their new leader to interfere.

In the outside world of snow, the sun was setting and twilight had begun. A vicious smile twisted his expression, a wicked gleam lighting his blue eyes.

“Yeah, here it is. Confession time, bub,” his voice grated at his captive’s ear. “Ya know why, too. Spill yer secrets or spill yer guts, I don’t really care which.”

Reece twisted violently in Logan’s grasp, almost fracturing his wrist in the mutant’s iron grip. “No, you don’t understand! I can’t go out there–”

“We all had our turn playin’ Tarzan. Yer not special, are ya?”

“Wolverine, stop it,” Jean cried out, affected by the pinioned man’s terror, no doubt. “There could be a real danger –”

“Yup, an’ here it comes. Hey, Hook, gotta treat fer ya! Step up, ya hell bitch – come an’ get it!”

Jean came forward to clutch at his shoulders as they were abruptly surrounded by the interwoven howls and snarls of a pack of bear-dogs.

They came out of the thin freezing air like gray and black wraiths, gibbering their rage, and evincing a cold hunger that Logan could scent and he knew Jean could feel. The monsters crept closer in a knot, and they weren’t alone.

“Oh my God,” Jean whispered at his ear. “She’s there – I can’t see her, but she’s there.”

“This is tha bait that gets results, Red. Surprise, surprise: Hook wants Reece, an’ pretty bad, too.” He shook the man like a ragdoll. “Whattaya say, Waldo? Maybe if we hand ya over, she’ll break tha spell, huh? Let us go?”

“No! She’ll kill you all –”

“Is that a fact?” Logan took another step closer to the edge of the graying snow as the sun failed. “I’m not so sure. Thinks she’s a goddess, right? We give ‘er a sacrifice, we appease tha wrath. Ain’t that how it works?”

Jean backed away from them. “Wolverine ... stop it. I can feel her...” Her voice rose in growing panic. “Damn you, stop it! Pull him back!” She turned to the other men. “Run – get down deep, fast!”

They obeyed her without question, but Logan not only stood his ground, he advanced. His bare feet hit the snow, a snarl on his lips as he held the man’s struggling body in front of him.

Buffeted by an abrupt and violent wind, he narrowed his eyes as he felt the unseen presence lunge for them. With snapping needle teeth, one or two of the bear-dogs stepped onto the frozen stone, their talons scoring it with a high-pitched scraping noise.

Reece screamed. Logan shook him again. “Why does she want ya?” he shouted over the wind. “Why! Tell me, or damn yer eyes, she’ll have ya!”

A burst of telekinetic power struck and enveloped them, hauling them back into the cavern mouth.

Logan didn’t fight it. He watched the monsters snap and roar, restrained by their mistress from entering the caves. His back struck a wall next to the entrance of the Audubon tunnel, none too gently: Phoenix was pissed.

With a growl of disgust, he threw Reece down at his feet the instant Jean released them. The man began to crawl into the tunnel, but Logan put a foot down on his back and flattened him onto his belly.

Outside, their enemies still raged and howled. Had Hook retreated? He didn’t think so, but she was keeping the animals out.  _Or is she keepin’ ‘em away from Reece? She wants ‘im, but undamaged?_ Instinct made him aware of another possible threat in the form of an outraged redhead.  _Deal with Jean first, bub – she knows where ya sleep._

“What the hell were you doing?” Hands fisted, she crackled with barely-controlled power. “You almost got him killed! Aren’t two dead people enough?”

“Hear me out, Red,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“You were mindlessly feral with Kendall, but there’s no excuse for –”

“Oh, yeah, I gotta excuse,” he flared. “Tha blood vessels in that woman’s eyes were a broken mess – a sure sign o’ suffocation. Reece killed ‘er – before she could wake up, before she could talk, or remember who she was … but ‘is scent was on tha marks at ‘er throat. Tha rest o’ tha Wild Bunch hadn’t recovered ‘nuff yet t’ notice.” Looking down at his captive, he added, “Right, Reece? Just too temptin’, I guess.” His fierce eyes met hers again. “That good ‘nuff fer ya?”

Her hands flew to her mouth as she looked away from him to stare down at Reece. “But ... why?”

“That’s what I aim t’ find out.”

He reached down and hauled the man to the wall, allowing him to slump against it, his legs curled in front of him, arms rising to cover his head. His body trembled with terror.

Logan crouched beside him. “Look at me,” he said, his tone a threat. Pinning the man with a fierce glare, he spoke with a soft and cold voice. “Ya gotta choice, Reece. Confess – while tha lady scans yer mind fer fibs. If ya don’t, I’ll toss ya outside this cave an’ we’ll see how fast ya can get back in t’ try tha first option again.”


	8. Sacrifice

I will give the secrets you request  
and you will be the one to sacrifice  
So lay your olive arms across my breast  
and sing the poems, free the butterflies

I feel my body weakened by the years  
as people turn to gods of cruel design  
Is it that they fear the pain of death  
or could it be they fear the joy of life

Pray your gods who ask you for your blood  
for they are strong and angry jealous ones  
Or lay upon my altar now your love  
I fear my time is short  
There are armies moving close  
Be quick, my love

~ Pray Your Gods (Toad The Wet Sprocket)

*****************************************************************

“I don’t know her name; I don’t think she does, if she even has one. I called her Hellena.”

Jean leaned in, eager for the truth. “She’s a very powerful mutant and obviously dangerous. How did you –?”

“Her parents gave her to me,” Reece interrupted. “They probably would have killed her, or allowed the local mob to do it – I had to take her away with me.”

Logan snorted at that.

Jean met his skeptical gaze and sighed. “He’s telling the truth.” Looking back at the man that her telepathic talent was invading, she nodded. “Go on. What exactly is her power?”

“Or a better question is,” Logan interjected, “what’s ‘er damage?”

“I can answer both – partially. I was studying her and I hadn’t discovered much when I ended up trapped here.”

“Partial info won’t get ya killed, bub – partial truths might.”

Reece winced, having learned the value of avoiding Wolverine’s anger. “She’s a telepath, but perhaps not as strong as you,” he told Jean. “I don’t have a name for the other power, but as you’ve guessed, she can make elements of her imagination real – real enough to kill, or even to be eaten.”

“Tell us somethin’ we didn’t figure out fer ourselves, Waldo,” Logan threatened.

Slumping lower where he sat with his back against the cave wall, Reece continued and managed to surprise them. “Hellena doesn’t have a body – not much left of one, anyway. She’s like a ghost, but not, keeping a minimum connection with what remains. She uses her powers to contain her spirit, like a pocket of air, or gust of wind, to achieve movement and to effect things in the world. Yet what she wants is another body, a working one that is – that’s why she had the monsters capture ... the woman.”

Jean swallowed hard. Her connection to him filled in the blanks between his words, tapping into the swirl of feelings and events he was attempting to express. “She wanted you to help somehow – but you refused...”

“How could I agree? She was irrational, unwilling to wait to find a better way. She tries to dull the senses, to stun the spirit and mind, so that she can force the soul out of a new body and claim it. When I told her that would be murder, she didn’t seem to understand, or care. The longer she remains in her current state, the stronger her powers become. If she took a body now, I don’t know what would happen. It might dull her abilities, or exponentially increase them and I couldn’t be responsible for unleashing another murderous mutant on the world. Anti-mutant feeling among the general populace is volatile enough.”

“So when she attempted to make me fall asleep...” Jean gasped when Reece nodded.

“Now we know why everyone above ground goes all ‘of tha apes’.” Logan grunted. “Just more attempts t’ get a new skin – but we were diff’rent, Red.”

“Astonishingly so,” Reece agreed. “Your regression was utterly feral, not addled or weakened. It seems the less civilized you are, the more powerful you become.”

“That’s tha breaks, bub.”

“Yet Phoenix hasn’t regressed to an animalistic state,” he added. “Perhaps Hellena cannot manipulate another telepath, or one with your level of power.”

Jean and Logan exchanged a look.  _I haven’t regressed?_  she thought privately.  _Oh, no – I just turn into a callous nymphomaniac with a scarlet letter on my chest and a mean streak ... no problem at all._ Dread filled her at the thought of Hellena gaining control of the Phoenix Force, too – a fear that was mirrored in Logan’s mind. Clearing her throat, she looked away from her friend and back at Reece. “Maybe not – not as effectively, anyway.”

Reece sighed, staring at his hands. “My refusal to help her caused my exile and she continues to pull in others, to take their bodies if she can.”

“She keeps failin’, too – might be handy if we could figure out why.”

“Yes, and why won’t the bear-dogs enter the caverns? Or Hellena herself?” Jean pressed her mental probe deeper into the anthropologist’s mind, but he didn’t appear to have those answers.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “She didn’t seem afraid of them when I brought her here.”

“If tha bear-dogs are a part o’ ‘er power – a part o’ whatever’s left physically – figments o’ imagination or not, what if killin’ ‘em weakens ‘er? Hell, maybe makin’ ‘em solid an’ edible weakens ‘er even more. Seems if it didn’t, she’d just make a body from scratch like she’s makin’ tha rest o’ ‘em.”

“Not a bad theory,” Jean answered.

“While we’re jawin’ on tha subject – just call me curious – where is what’s left o’ ‘er?”

“I have no idea.” His head lifting, Reece stared out into the gathering dusk. “Somewhere out there ... possibly even in the ‘real world’.”

“What harmed her body?” Jean asked.

When he turned his head to look at her, the last red rays of sunset flashed off of his glasses. In another moment night had come and with it, more howls of the monsters. Again and again, their cries sounded in the dark.

“You have to ask that? Can’t you just take the memories and see for yourself?” His voice was bitter, with an edge of anger to it. She abruptly realized that it wasn’t Logan’s brutality alone that had terrified and offended him – something in him naturally detested telepaths, even as he admired their power.

Jean didn’t feel the least hesitation after that. She plunged into the images he had called to the front of his thoughts. It was a jumbled collection and every one was a scene of horror.

The form of Hellena didn’t come clear because she was surrounded by others – people full of hate. They struck her with rocks, hit her with sticks and worse. Then one of them, a massive man with limited intelligence and boundless cruelty, began to beat her. When he stopped, the body before him was broken and bleeding.

_Was she even breathing_ _?_

She gasped when the parents stepped forward as the crowd dispersed – they had come from the center of the mob. Seeing them as if she were Reece, she heard them tell him to take their daughter if he wanted her, and that if she should survive, they never wanted to see her again or even to be told if she died.

Wrenching herself away from it and him, Jean broke her probe and left his mind. Her breath came fast, her skin shivering with more than cold. “I will never understand how they can hate us so much.”

“Practice,” Logan remarked. When she turned to face him, her expression full of pain, his callous glare melted. “Sorry, Red – but if any mutant sticks their head in tha sand an’ pretends people don’t hate ‘em, they’re riskin’ not hearin’ tha bastards when they sneak up t’ murder ‘em.”

Jean stood and turned her back on him. She didn’t need a probe to tell her Reece was starting to slip – the glazed look of the beginnings of regression was plain on his abruptly lax face.

“We have to get him out of here, back down deep.” She didn’t wait for Logan’s answer, but when she entered the tunnel, she could hear him pick Reece up and follow her.

~ ~ ~

In their dark cave, wrapped in a fur as she straddled Logan’s nude warmth, she had not found peace, her mind and will torn by all that they faced. Groping in vain for comfort, she had reached for him again, not caring if she regreted it. His touch and his love were a balm, but she knew they couldn’t hide in each other for much longer. It made every moment, every sensation, precious.

 _I was angr_ _y_ _and hurt … but he was right – pretending the world is safe for mutants has gotten so many of them killed._ Jean sighed softly.  _Reece will be recovering for a few hours and we should be using this time to sort out what we can do to deal with Hellena – and to escape this insanity_ _._ Her hand moved, gently stroking down the thick hair of Logan’s chest and sculpted abdomen, feeling his breath as it slowed.  _That’s the question, isn’t it?_  she asked herself.  _Do I want to leave_ _?_

For the moment, she wanted to stay right where she was and feel him grow hard again while still inside her, just as she had done not long before. Lowering herself to kiss him, she shivered.

Logan wrapped her in his arms and gave her the passion she needed without question or hesitation. When he broke the kiss, the warmth of his concern for her only drew her in deeper.

“Are ya still cold, darlin’?”

“No,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his throat. “How you feel – it makes my whole body react. Good shivers,” she added, and smiled against his skin.

“Ya don’t hafta try t’ go fer a marathon just cuz ya peeked in my head an’ found out I want it…”

“I want it, too. Does it bother you – how much I read your thoughts?”

“If it did, wouldn’t leave tha door open fer ya.”

“You’re such a private man in so many ways; I guess … sometimes I’m surprised. I almost never feel you block me; only the occasional mental jukebox comes up to hide this or that. Yet most of those moments seem to be more about respecting me or not wanting to burden me, than trying to hide yourself from me.”

“My brain hides myself from me; what I do know, don’t feel a need t’ protect it from ya. I ‘spose if ya wanted t’ go explorin’, ya’d see stuff ya’d rather not, sooner or later.”

“Would that be a problem?”

“Only if it drove ya away. Want ya t’ feel welcome, whether it’s my den or my head. I think ya need tha connection an’ I like bein’ what ya need. I like … knowin’ ya care ‘nuff t’ wanna look.”

“Even when you’re angry with me?”

“Not entirely sure what yer used t’ in tha free rein o’ tha head department, Jeannie, but I love ya … that don’t budge over bein’ pissed. ‘Sides, that puppies crack was yer version o’ goin’ feral.”

“It was, but I’m sorry I said it, all the same. I didn’t plan to move until you were … ready again, but…”

“Now yer ready fer a break?”

“No, I … want to see you. We can’t have any fire in here, but we could go out where the fire is… It’s not as fun not being able to see each other, right?”

“Ya had ‘nuff o’ ‘missionary in tha dark’ t’ last a lifetime, huh?”

“Yes, I have. I can feel your emotions, hear your thoughts, but want to see you. Call me greedy, if you like.”

“I can see ya, but if ya wanna have tha next round in tha livin’ room, lead tha way.”

Jean kissed him and moved. Keeping the fur around her, she left the bedroom cave and sat by the fire. Watching him join her there was worth letting him see her crawl out ahead of him. He had all the grace for crawling over stone on hands and knees, and she didn’t have a bit of it.

“Gonna make me blush watchin’ me like that, darlin’.”

She smiled. “I’ve never seen you blush, ever, in what – a decade?”

He crawled up to her and nuzzled her shoulder. “First time fer everythin’…”

 _Very true… I want more,_  she thought to him. Slipping back into his mind, deeper into the jumble of lustful thoughts and the singing feeling of his love, she went looking for things he might want. He felt her there and merely opened to her more. It was a trick Charles had taught him when he was helping Logan heal some of his fractured memories. Yet it had always been difficult to explore his mind, even with him yielding so sweetly to allow it.  _Tell me what you want;_   _I need to give you something … just for us._

He growled softly deep in his throat, hard and ready, hungry for her. She almost felt a moment of resistance – his fear that she would be offended – but then it broke and let her in, let her see.

_Yes, Logan, I want … that._

_Ain’t gotta do that, darlin’ – know ya never have, figured it wasn’t yer thing._

_How can I know if I never try?_ Combing through the heat of those desires and his surprise that she was willing, she kissed him and then lay down on the fur they’d been sitting on, rolling to her stomach and looking back at him.  _Teach me, Logan… I want to feel this._

Swallowing hard, he moved to lie beside her and ran his fingers down her back, pausing at her tailbone. “Fuck, Jeannie,” he whispered.

Her smile was soft, as inviting and yielding as his mind was to her. “Show me.”

“It can be… We ain’t got…” He growled in frustration. “Can’t ya just read my mind fer all that?”

“I don’t know what it can be; I want you to show me that. We have lubrication…” She took his wrist in her hand and guided his fingers to the wet slick they’d both made inside her.

He sucked in his breath and the riot of curses in his head might have alarmed her if she couldn’t feel that they were torn from his shock and near-blinding need. “Yer just gonna…”

“Yes, I am. I know you will make it good because I can feel that you wish to and you know you can. I trust you, Logan; I want to give you this.”

“Yer gonna kill me dead, Jeannie.” His fingers were steady as they entered her to take what they needed, though his thoughts trembled, heat and fear of hurting her tangling.

She gasped at the feel of his touch, the thought of being touched where she’d never been, and the need to have him be the only one. “Please tell me you love me,” she whispered.

He moved, shifted, and the hand that touched her leg was gentle as he spread her legs wider. The fingers entered her again and she felt his tongue lick her above them. “I love ya, Jean… God, I love ya so fuckin’ much…”

The tongue licked more and it felt strange at first, and then his desire, his body aching for it, enveloped her when she touched his mind again. She pushed deeper into his thoughts as his tongue writhed and pushed into her. His fingers below toyed with her too, until he withdrew his tongue and let a thick finger push in, slow and easy.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispered, his voice a wreck.

“You won’t.” She searched for the connection, that bond she’d created and drawn out of his depths when she had spoken to his feral mind. For a moment, she felt discomfort as she realized it went deeper than his conscious human psyche – then she dismissed her fear.  _It is him, I trust him._ Jean could feel everything he was doing to open her body, but she didn’t want to experience how she perceived it as strange.  _That will pass. I want to feel his need for this, what it means to him._  She opened to it as if taking his body inside of hers in spirit and the strength of his heat took her breath away.

Jean knew she didn’t need the words, but he did, so she gave them to him. “It doesn’t hurt, keep going… Logan, I … it’s so beautiful…”

His body shuddered as he pushed himself inside and the groan he gave her made her body twitch in an orgasm she barely noticed – she was too enthralled by him. He hadn’t hurt her and her responses reassured him of that, but she was so caught up in how he felt, she almost disconnected from her own sensations.

“Jeannie, come back t’ me…”

“I am here, I am inside you…”

Logan made a sound that was so animalistic and hungry that it had the power to make her come again. “Ya might have that backwards, darlin’…” His lips kissed her shoulders.

Sensing the thread of fresh worry, she backed away from his inner fire and returned fully to her body. The shock of pleasure, her own pleasure, not his, made her open to him even more. That beautiful cock was buried and thrusting, slow and sure. His fangs found the nape of her neck, pausing there.

“Yes, I want that, too,” she whispered. The sharp fangs pinched and held her, not breaking the skin. She caught his concern and the question he didn’t want to ask and simply answered him. “No, don’t – not until you come.”

His answering growl was nothing but pure hunger. Hips snapping, he thrust faster, his weight pressing her down. She felt full, just on the edge of discomfort, which only drove her deeper into pleasure. His breath caught and then the fangs bit just a fraction into her flesh. Grasping the connection again, she cried out when her perception of his release filled her senses as his body filled hers.

~ ~ ~

Jean woke from a telepathic haze to feel Logan’s lips kissing her back and shoulders. She had to grope for the memory of him leaving her limp and sweating body. He had lain at her side, covered her with a fur, and began kissing her as though he needed to more than he needed to breathe.

“Welcome back, Jean darlin’…”

She shifted, turned and cuddled into his arms, ducking her head to bury her face in his chest. “You are the most intense, passionate man I’ve ever even sensed, let alone…”

“Are ya okay?”

“Yes.” Lifting her head, she kissed him. Her body and mind felt emotionally drunk. Smiling against his lips at the question in his thoughts, she snuggled closer. “I did like it – I loved … feeling you even more.”

“Slurrin’ yer words a bit...” He kissed her forehead. “Sleep awhile, I’ll keep an ear open fer any trouble.”

~ ~ ~

Jean woke wrapped in furs beside the fire. Logan was awake and covered mostly by her, his fingers softly stroking her hair. She wanted to rest, bask and enjoy, but one tentative peek in his thoughts proved that their troubles had found both of them again. He wanted her – wanted to keep her, forever. As often as casual sex for the sake of joy and pleasure was a part of his life and his travels, he wanted more with her.

The thought made her conflicted feelings come crashing over her brief peace. She was still haunted by the pain of this decision – to lie with him without the excuse of their enemy altering her personality. Yet though the guilt and confusion warred within her, she hadn’t been able to deny the passion that burned them both. It was destroying any attempt either of them might have made to stop themselves and the more they submitted to it, the worse the hunger became.

As if he could sense her thoughts, Logan spoke, his voice a hesitant whisper. “What if we just said t’ hell with it an’ stayed, Jeannie?”

“That’s a tempting fantasy.” She tried to smile and failed. “You know we can’t and you know why.”

“Cuz we gotta fight tha good fight, save tha world? Ain’t no end t’ that. Yer speech before we left home, ‘bout so many li’l fires burnin’ us all down? That was gospel.”

“A speech I made to Scott ... my husband.”

“Ya think I forgot? Don’t need tha reminder, Jean.”

She lifted herself away from him, sighing as their skin no longer touched. Lying at his side, she whispered, “I think we both need it. I’m sorry, Logan – I shouldn’t have done this again, not now – but I’m used to reaching out, having this, when the world crowds in too close. I needed what we shared … it was beautiful and healing for me.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “It doesn’t make it right – and it never will be right. I’m married; we’ve been through so much together, I can’t just run away from him.”

“Maybe ya do need remindin’ – ‘bout how he’s been treatin’ ya. Face it, Jeannie – he ain’t tha man ya knew.”

“How many times did I give up on you when you’d gone through one of your changes? Did I ever turn my back and walk away?”

“Only once.”

Her hands rose to cover her face as tears slipped between her fingers. She didn’t need to ask what he meant – the memory was clear in his mind. She had fought with him, accused him of forgetting all that it meant to be an X-Man, even of betraying what they’d so long fought for. Then she had turned her back – because he had married Viper.

Logan had done it to repay a debt of honor and she had come to understand that, if she’d never accepted it. Yet her tears weren’t born of shame over her regretful actions that awful day. Logan’s marriage had been a cruel joke to him, but he had tried to honor it while it lasted, even as unconsummated and twisted as it was. She and Scott had not been married long, but they’d been a couple for most of their lives – and she hadn’t been treating her marriage built on love with even a portion of the honor that Logan had given to Viper’s forced union.

As she lay there, she could still feel the heat of Logan’s touch, the strength and skill that had eclipsed her marriage. She tried to focus on her love for Scott, but all she could sense was the soul-deep need within the man beside her – a need that called to her to have him again. At the same time, her troubled and psychically damaged husband waited beyond this strange world – needing her help, whether he would admit it or not. Torn between the two of them, her heart couldn’t make her choose.

Her life had been with the X-Men, leaving them was unthinkable. Scott was a big part of that – their shared dreams and convictions, his strong leadership and quiet private vulnerabilities almost no one ever saw. He was always just a thought away, as steady and known to her as herself.

_What of Logan’s maddening wanderlust? His love of violence, bar brawls, and how he thinks nothing of killing… I’ve known since I met him that his rougher edges weren’t easy to deal with, not for me. With Scott treating me as he has, it seemed easier to turn to Logan, but could I live with him? Compatible in bed doesn’t make us able to share a life every day. Will I try to cling to saving a marriage that we may not be able to fix? Is it_ _even what I want_ _anymore, knowing what I could have with Logan?_ _We are already such close friends; could sex be a bridge to finding a way to become more, despite our differences?_

If it was just the three of them, it became a problem of choosing one. Yet it wasn’t only these two very different men – it was the others, too. The school, their friends, how they would have to try to make it work and still be a team … and what if they couldn’t? Logan often acted like it wasn’t true, his alpha nature and instincts hard to ignore, but he and Scott were friends.

_Would the others take sides? Blame me, or Logan? Or blame Scott…_

Jean felt the pain she’d known when she had thought her husband was dead. She had dreaded being alone in their suite, knowing the loss would just go on and on. His smile and laugh, the intelligence and insight into so many things and how she loved to talk with him about any of them. Discussions on politics, civil rights, and his passion about them had made her admire him from the start. He had been her best friend and they had discovered love and sex together, slow and tentative, but sweet and deep. There was a rhythm to their lives at the school and her partnership with her husband and friend had been a pillar of strength for them and for many others.

 _Logan talks of staying in this strange place, which is impossible, but there are other places we could go. He’d adapt and probably not miss much, except maybe Jubilee, Kitty, and Storm._  Tears spilled at the thought of leaving Storm.  _I couldn’t run away, hide, leave them all; yet if I returned, left Scott and tried to make a life with Logan – my whole world would be torn into pieces._

Beside her, Logan’s thoughts were as much a mess as hers. Pushing to see some of the things she never wanted to see, they came to her easily – claws opening flesh, the bestial joy of the kill, both for food and revenge. Hunts and fights – how he would allow Sabretooth to goad him just to rip and tear each other with abandon and then call it … fun… The wilderness, the bars, the women…

 _He might try to change if I asked, but it wouldn’t work and wouldn’t be right. All that would do is make him resent me. I can’t just go running in the woods, eat raw things he kills and live like an animal with sticks in my hair…_   _If I go back to my marriage, will I end up missing Logan’s touch for the rest of my life when I lie with Scott? Worse, Logan would be there, just a whispered thought away – willing and drowning my senses in a need for me that makes me ache for him._ _I just don’t know_ _what to do..._  The tears turned to sobs.

“Jeannie ... don’t...”

He turned to her, the hands and body that had shattered her peace trying to comfort – but all he did was stoke the hunger. Even his kindness and his regret, thinking his words had hurt her, drew her back to the fire.

She had never known a man so passionate, in bed and out. Every aspect of his complex and wounded being, a mystery even to himself, lured her to forget everything else that had ever mattered to her. Yet yearning for an all-consuming passion didn’t cure her fear of it – the fear of losing herself completely within it – and so, shuddering, she retreated from it, as she always had.

“No, it’s my fault – all of it. Logan, I – I need to think.” He was silent as she rose, clutching a fur around her. She went to retrieve the clothes she’d left in the smaller dark cave. He would let her go, let her walk away from him as he always did. Pausing, she looked back and whispered, “We have to do what’s right – stop Hellena from hurting anyone else and end this madness. Whatever we do about ... us ... can wait.”

Logan sat up and faced her, naked and unashamed of his wants. “Wait. Like we’ve been doin’ fer years? Sayin’ nothin’, but feelin’ this thing between us every damn day? I’d rather stay here an’ give up tha world an’ everythin’ in it, than give up bein’ with ya, even if this was Hell.”

“Leaving here won’t end our relating – I just have to sort out ... what to do, what I want. Logan, I don’t know what I want ... I never did.”

“I know.”

“Also, I haven’t been ... completely honest with you. I don’t want to get into who’s at fault for what, but you have a right to know: before all of this started, too long before, Scott stopped making love with me, at all. It was tearing me up and I was confused and ... needy.” She couldn’t read the carefully neutral expression on his face, but his thoughts were slowly turning bitter and growing cold to her. Afraid of what he was thinking, but unwilling to pry, she continued in a rush. “Maybe if I had sorted out my own mess sooner, I wouldn’t have – what?”

His voice was low, gruff, the pain in his thoughts freezing her. “Ya think I dunno he ain’t been touchin’ ya? Fer years, Jeannie, I knew – every time, every place that he put a hand on yer skin. Pass ya in tha kitchen, or out in tha field, I could smell ‘is scent on ya, smell what ya had done with each other. Never even mattered that ya bathed, darlin’, an’ that’s tha hard truth o’ what sorta hell my senses can put me in. I can tell ya tha day he quit, down t’ tha minute, probly. Know what ya smell like now? Me. Ain’t many places he’s ever been I ain’t covered by now, huh? Plus a few he’s got no clue how t’ stroke. Now ya wanna confess, tell me ya were just gettin’ me t’ scratch an itch? Already knew that too – even offered, if ya recall. Fact is, I ain’t what ya want, no matter what ya decide ‘bout Slim. A few itch-scratchin’ bed tricks ain’t gonna change that.”

She turned to face him and held herself tightly, her tears gathering again at his harsh words. “It hasn’t – it doesn’t – mean nothing to me, Logan. How can you think that?”

“Didn’t think it, Jeannie, was too busy foolishly hopin’it was more – but yer body language an’ scent just said it, loud an’ clear. If ya had any intention o’ bein’ with me, ya’d still be lyin’ here.”

“You’re wrong. We have a deeper bond than ever, now. I wouldn’t want to break it – but I need to decide...”

Her throat closed and she couldn’t speak further. Logan was quiet, staring down at his hands, where his claws so often tore free. They were only the most obvious evidence of his nature, and they both knew it was that native savagery that had always been a barrier between them. When they left this place and the strange influence on her mind that helped her accept his feral nature faded, that barrier would still be there even if her fear was gone.

As she timidly touched his thoughts, the hopeless strains of a haunting song echoed there. It was  _The Chain_  by Fleetwood Mac and she knew it well. Her tears continued to fall as she left him, listening to the words in his mind: words he was using to mask private thoughts, even as his pain flowed like blood.

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light  
And if you don’t love me now  
you will never love me again  
I can still hear you saying  
you would never break the chain

never break the chain…

*****************************************************************

“Out, both o’ ya,” Logan ordered.

Andy and George hurried to obey him, leaving Reece alone in his cave. Logan frowned as he glanced over all of the bric-a-brac around the man, the expression souring into a glare as his gaze rested again on the preserved reptilian mutant’s head.

Reece watched him warily, without saying a word. The man looked no worse for wear through all of his trials to date in this place – but that was about to change.

“I’ve been ‘round a while, Reece. Learned a lot, too – an’ not all o’ my teachers wore white hats.”

The anthropologist stood as he approached, yet in spite of his caution, he seemed confident enough that he was safe.

 _Does he think Jean’s in charge an’ I won’t hurt ‘im cuz she said not t’? Probly. Watershed time, bub._ “Ya said ya study mutants. Ever study me?”

“From a distance, yes, in public accounts and also, in interviews with various private witnesses who’ve had dealings – fortunate and unfortunate – with the man known as Wolverine. The whole paints an eclectic portrait.”

“I bet, whoever ya jawed with – but we’re gonna paint outside tha lines t’night.” Logan advanced again and smiled cruelly when he saw fear spark in the man’s eyes at last. “Told ya once I was curious – still am. Ready t’ throw down?”

“I don’t understand – I can’t fight you.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that – I’m prepared t’ take an unfair advantage.”

“Ms. Phoenix –”

“Is upstairs makin’ ‘er own decisions. I can’t help with ‘ers, but I can with yers.”

“My decisions?”

“Yup. Fer starters, tellin’ me what I wanna know.”

“You were so concerned about lies before – how will you know what I say is true without the telepath?”

“I got ways.”

His fist was a blur of motion, smashing the taller man to the floor before he ever saw it. Logan followed him down, leaning over him in a threatening crouch. In the ringing shock of silence after the blow, a metallic ~snikt~ upped the ante.

Glaring down into his victim’s widened eyes, Logan asked, “Hook don’t care one way or ‘nother ‘bout mutants, does she?”

“What are you –?”

“Wrong answer.” The single claw he’d popped pressed into the soft flesh of Reece’s belly, the point of it entering his shirt and shuddering flesh with frightening ease. “Here’s tha game, bub. Tell me tha truth, an’ tha claw stays still. Lie, it goes up an inch. Gimme half a truth, it goes down.”

“My God... How can I be assured you’d believe the truth?”

“That, Waldo, is up t’ how convincin’ ya are. I suggest ya make it good. I got six claws, so I get six questions an’ tha first one’s on tha table. Ready t’ play?”

He was silent until he gasped – the claw had pressed in incrementally deeper. “She doesn’t kill them because they are mutants,” he abruptly responded, his voice a babble of desperation. “I think she kills them because she cannot take their bodies – their minds, their wills, are too strong for her to overcome and throw out.”

“Huh. Ya know, I like tha fear, it’s healthy … but tha eyes shiftin’ ‘round – I think ya got more t’ say on that subject.” His arm moved and the claw began to cut downward. “Whattaya think?”

“Stop! I – okay, okay, she can’t possess them because of that but she kills them to protect her body!”

Grinning fiercely, Logan moved his claw down again. “An’ they die cuz –?”

“I don’t under – because I sent them! They die because I send them out to try to find her, and they aren’t strong enough to fight her and her monsters! Please,” he begged, as the claw finally stopped.

“Well, that was a solid round one.” Removing his claw, he held it over Reece’s face, letting his blood drip onto his chin from its point. Methodically, he popped the next claw on the same fist. “Time fer round two.”

Tears slipped down the man’s cheeks. “A lot of the normal humans have died on the same mission,” he whispered. “I don’t know why she hasn’t been able to possess them.”

“Extra information – ‘preciate it, bub, but guess what? Free confessions won’t get ya outta tha game.” Angling his second claw an inch to the right of the bleeding cut, he asked, “If Hook keeps draggin’ folks in, how come so few are trapped here with us?”

“I’ve sent most of them to find her body. From what you said about Wendy escaping, I assume the authorities have kept people away from the area, so she has no one to trap in the vicinity.” He screamed hoarsely when the second claw pierced him and cut down slightly. “It’s the truth,” he said, panting, “I swear...”

“Yeah, I know – just not all o’ it. Go on.”

Reece looked confused until Logan’s hand twitched. Then he gulped and spoke quickly. “She has a limited influence. I don’t know what the radius is, exactly, but she can’t trap people if they are too far away from her body.”

The second claw withdrew from the smaller cut and the third popped with a loud ~snikt~. “We’re makin’ progress, Waldo. Ya explained why tha Wild Bunch is such a small club, if ya been shippin’ ‘em up t’ do yer dirty work fer ya. We got tha truth ‘bout how mutants factor in an’ why we ain’t got new neighbors arrivin’ daily. Ready fer round three?”

“Please ... stop. I’ll tell you anything...”

Without hesitation, he pricked the man with the third claw. “Yer smart ‘nuff t’ figure this out: if yer not answerin’ me, shut tha fuck up. Ready fer three?”

Stifling a sob, Reece nodded.

“Good. Ya gotta love a man who can be trained. Here it is – think carefully. Why won’t Hook or ‘er creatures enter tha caverns?”

“I believe – it’s the stone. I don’t know if it limits her range, or if the density of it weakens her power. I have suspected both may be true, as evidenced by the fact that the deeper you are, the more the regression leaves you.”

“I’m impressed.” Logan withdrew the claw and retracted all three of them with a ~snakt~.

“Thank you,” Reece murmured, his body starting to unclench.

Logan shifted where he had been crouching, turning his torso slightly. “Did ya forget somethin’?” Raising his other fist, he popped the first claw there. “I still got three left.”

*****************************************************************

The fear and horrid pain of one man, and the savage satisfaction of the other had finally permeated Jean’s troubled thoughts and sent her rushing to stop Logan’s Machiavellian questioning.

When she passed the other two men skulking outside of the cave, one look told her neither of them had had the courage to protest, though they were obviously listening. She gave them a scathing glance before bursting in on Logan and Reece.

“Wolverine, stop this!”

She didn’t use her TK to make him, but he could see and scent that she was only a breath away from doing so.

Two of his claws were dripping with blood; the third was actively cutting down the anthropologist’s abdomen when she shouted out to him. The claw stopped, but did not withdraw.

“We’re almost done, Red. I’ll catch ya up on tha rest later, unless ya wanna just ream it out o’ me now – but Reece just admitted that if he’d found Hook’s body, he woulda killed ‘er. Before that, he agreed with my theory that takin’ outta mess o’ tha bear-dogs at once would weaken tha bitch. Now I’m findin’ out who that cavewoman was – if yer feelin’ curious...”

“Stop it now. I can dig the rest out of him.”

Growling, Logan removed his last claw. “Not necessary, darlin’. Is it, Waldo?”

“No,” Reece answered, gasping.

“Well?” Logan moved away and stood, leaning against the rock ledge.

The casual pose didn’t lessen his threatening appearance. The trio of claws still dripped with the man’s blood, as well – no doubt for intimidation overkill. It was hard to tell if Reece hesitated out of fear or if he was going into shock. Jean held her ground. Logan’s volatile thoughts told her he hadn’t wounded the fool seriously.

“Spill it or I’ll spill yer offal instead, an’ if ya think she can save ya, think o’ this: everybody sleeps – sooner or later.”

“She was ... my wife.”

~ ~ ~

Jean wasn’t gentle with the stitching or bandaging, but remained silent as Reece explained himself. Logan stood at the entrance to the cave, his back to both of them.

“We were separated, more than two years. Lynn never approved of my study of the mutant culture, or of mutants in general. I’d told her I wouldn’t give it up and so she must have come to find me – probably to tell me she wanted a divorce. I came here to find Hellena, having heard of a girl with ‘upsetting’ powers in Bowling Green. When Lynn was trapped here, Hellena’s powers affected her quickly. I never saw a rational woman in her face until just before she tried to escape.”

“Watch it, Waldo,” Logan muttered.

Jean felt the man’s fear freeze the attempt at a lie.

“Not to escape,” Reece amended, watching Logan’s back with wide eyes. “I sent her up. I told – told her ... that if she ran far enough, fast enough, she could get free and return to the world.”

“You must have realized she’d be hurt, after what you told Wolverine before. Why...” Jean frowned, feeling the answer in his thoughts even as her voice dwindled away in disgust. Taking a breath, she asked the question anyway, just to make him admit it. “Why did you do it?”

“It seemed the shortest route to simplifying my life – on many levels. When he brought her back alive, I couldn’t risk either of you talking to her.”

 _Oh, God – the woman regained her mind and I never sensed it. Why?_  With a wince, the truth came clear.  _Because I was rutting with Logan like a ... a..._

 _I think tha phrase yer lookin’ fer is ‘bitch in heat’,_ Logan thought, his mind voice bitter, angry.

Jean almost lashed out at him before she realized that she had trespassed into his mind, not the other way around. Shaking her head, she broke off the instinctual connection.

“So why didn’t Hellena posses her body ... or kill her if she couldn’t?”

Reece looked at her, guilt twisting in his face. He wanted to deny, lie, hide – but his terror of Logan changed his mind. “Lynn was fighting lung cancer. I felt sure Hellena would destroy her because of that – but it is possible she wanted to use her as bait to draw me out.”

Uncomprehending Reece’s ability to allow another man to rape his sick wife as a conquered possession, to coldly send her out to die … and then to suffocate her when that plan failed, Jean sought a deeper understanding – in the form of a reaming probe.

It caught Reece by surprise, but she was finished with it before it could hurt him much. Burdened with her new knowledge, Jean regretted that a little.

“For a list of petty sins and a fat inheritance you didn’t want to lose, you murdered your wife.”

“Now ya done it, Waldo,” Logan said, and chuckled. “Tha lady’s got issues lately with errant husbands. She might give ya back t’ me if yer not careful.” Hands fisted, his claws retracted with a loud ~snakt~. Without looking back, he left them.

Just outside, Jean heard him speaking to Andy. The park ranger’s response made her frown grow darker as she glared at Reece.

“Yes, he did,” Andy said. “He told me to help Wendy, but also to look for the body. Now I have to wonder if she was just bait all along. Then she escaped and I guess I regressed again. That’s all I remember.”

Logan stalked back into the cave, a malevolent expression on his face. Reece scrambled away from him, setting his back against stone with his arms over his bandaged belly. Jean watched, but didn’t interfere.

“Yer turn’s comin’, Reece. We’re gonna fight this bitch an’ when we do, yer helpin’ – no more hidin’ while others die. No more sendin’ a kid up t’ tempt a witch, neither. We’re gonna tempt ‘er with yer skinny ass.”

The man called Wolverine left them – and Reece slumped, relieved that he was gone.

“I wouldn’t relax too much,” Jean told him. “He only left to avoid the temptation to kill you outright.”

“Creatures like that – can make one see the viewpoint of mutant haters in a new light.”

“You should meet Sabretooth; what a shame that would be.” Jean stood and stared down at the man, contempt shining in her eyes. “Don’t assume you have a sympathizer in me. After what I’ve seen in your filthy mind, I’m more than a little willing to let Wolverine kill you. Make no mistake – if you survive facing Hellena, I’ll see that you are arrested for murder when this is over. I’m willing to bet Andy and George wouldn’t argue.”

“What of the man your companion killed? I imagine Mr. Kendall wasn’t the first, by any means. Or does your sense of justice not extend to your own kind?”

“Kendall’s death was an accident brought on by Hellena’s mental regression; also, he was far more deserving of what he got than you are, believe it or not. The sins of one have never absolved the sins of another. Don’t lecture me on morals after confessing to multiple murders, Reece – being this close to you has already made me feel sick.”

“Ms. Phoenix, you must –”

“I only have one more question for you. I am an Omega-level telepath – you may know what that means if you study mutants. If the animals are illusion made real, they wouldn’t have thoughts for me to sense. Hellena is a real person; why can’t I find her out there?”

“Perhaps only part of her is ‘here’ with us, or not at all. If she is physically outside of this reality, you couldn’t find her – because from within, the outside world does not exist. Surely you’ve tried to reach out to other minds beyond this place? Was it successful, in spite of your vaunted talent?”

A rage worthy of Wolverine burned her, but it was the same heat that rose within whenever she had tried to strain her telepathy to contact their team. Abruptly bathed in sweat at the thought of what it could mean, Jean drew a deep breath and glared at Reece, swallowing the angry words that would only feed the rage.

Turning on her heel, she left him. Passing the others outside, she spoke as she walked away from them to follow in Logan’s footsteps. “I wouldn’t stick around if I were you. You’re witnesses now and Reece doesn’t like witnesses. Watch your backs.”

“What should we do?” Andy asked her.

George added in a timid mutter, “The other man told us to bring our things to the Rotunda and wait there.”

Jean didn’t look back. “Then I suggest you obey him – unless you want him to pull the same Freddy Krueger treatment on you.”

She found Logan standing at the entrance to the caverns, his body stiff, his mind and emotions in turmoil. The last cigar was clenched in the corner of his mouth, its smoke white in the freezing night air. The metal case flashed when he threw it out into the snow. Staring at it as if he was waiting for it to disappear, he did not acknowledge her presence.

“I’ve changed my mind – I don’t blame you for getting vicious.”

He didn’t move, his blue eyes staring off into the dark, empty wild. “Now yer hedgin’ tha truth. My claws proved he was a dirty wretch – that’s tha only reason ya can try t’ justify it. Chuck’s Boy Scout might be prickly nowadays, but he ain’t a beast like me.”

“Don’t presume to know what I’ll decide,” she flared. Her fists trembled at her sides. “Sometimes, the two of you are obnoxiously alike – you both think you know me better than I do.”

“Face it, Jeannie – my nature turns ya cold. Once ya can look at that, ya know what yer decision’ll be.”

“Other aspects of your nature burn.” She reached out to touch his back, not to spark passion, but to comfort his pain. Yet neither the body beneath her fingers nor the mind that governed it warmed to her. “Logan, you owe me this – a chance to sort it out before you try to decide for me, either way.”

“Gotta point, Red; guess I’ll let ya think in peace.” He moved away and headed for the tunnels.

“Wait...” She faced him, but he didn’t turn. “I’m sorry ... for what I thought at you. I was upset that I didn’t sense his wife and I didn’t mean to sound so...” Swallowing, she tried again. “I’m angry with myself, not you.”

Even with telepathy, she might not have been able read the look he gave her over his shoulder. Trembling with more than just the cold, she was afraid to try.

“Don’t stay up here too long, darlin’ – ya might prefer bein’ in yer own right mind when we draw up battle plans. Wouldn’t want Hook leanin’ ya more t’ my way o’ thinkin’ fer that.”

“Tell me why you suddenly started carving Reece for answers.”

“Figure it out.”

“Logan...”

He didn’t answer, and then he was gone.

 _Was it to get us out of here faster, since you’re convinced I’ll choose Scott?_  She didn’t pass the question on to her brooding friend. Jean faced the night as he had, trying to sense their enemy.  _Hellena – I’m sorry for what happened to you and I still want to help you, in spite of everything. I hope you’ll let me._

She startled when she picked up Logan’s gruff mental hail; she hadn’t realized how deeply she’d been trying to impart her thoughts to the unseen mutant out in the snow.

_Time fer war games – I’m gonna go fetch Waldo. Meet us in tha Rotunda in five._

Jean sent back her affirmative, but remained a moment longer. Outside, the night wind howled – or was it the voices of monsters her mind couldn’t touch?

Sighing, she turned away from the wind and headed back down the winding stone tunnel to rejoin the others.

_Maybe if I can keep the peace long enough, we could all live to see the end of this mess._

She tried not to think about what she would do after that.

*****************************************************************

To avoid watching Jean as she brought the others up to speed on anything they hadn’t already overheard, Logan stared down at Reece. The man sat quietly through it all, enduring the shocked and scathing looks of the others. In fact, he was behaving obediently enough to make his interrogator suspicious.

The anthropologist hadn’t moved from the spot where Logan had dumped him when he released the back of the man’s neck. He studied his hands or the cavern floor beyond his worn hiking boots, looking anywhere but at the men he had led and misled for so long.

Andy the park ranger and George the tourist asked a few questions, but it was obvious that the mutants present were the only ones with any experience in a fight. The fear on the others’ faces showed plainly in the shifting torchlight.

Predictably, Jean didn’t want a death match. He could read her response in the calm way she sat, Indian-style, with hands resting on her knees. Logan couldn’t be so relaxed. He paced a short distance beyond them all, glaring at Reece with every turn. He also couldn’t be as charitable as he knew Jean would try to be.

“We aren’t going to kill her,” she answered George’s meek inquiry. “Capture, contain, restrain – that’s the goal.”

“Will that stop this weird reality?” Andy’s hands toyed with a trio of small stones, passing them back and forth as he watched the redhead.

“If it doesn’t, we should be able to convince her to stop it.”

“One way or ‘nother,” Logan muttered. When Reece twitched, he smirked. Crushing his cigar stub on a rock as he passed it, Logan walked back to Reece and tossed it onto his lap. He flinched again, but didn’t touch it. “Tha idea is t’ take out as many bear-dogs as possible. As tha theory goes, it should weaken ‘er power ‘nuff fer Phoenix t’ find ‘er body.”

“None of us have ever been able to kill even one of them,” Andy protested.

“Don’t worry, bub – monster liquidation is my prob.”

“So what do we do?”

Logan faced the park ranger. “Yer buddy an’ yerself are stayin’ put, right here.”

“What about him?” Andy asked. The contempt in his voice as he gestured to Reece indicated that he felt much the same about his former leader as Logan did.

“Can’t leave ‘im behind t’ try murderin’ tha two o’ ya, so he goes with us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jean said. “I know I agreed before, but maybe we should consider other options? He can’t fight Hellena or her creatures – we’d likely just get him killed.”

“I got no prob with that scenario.”

“We can’t just sacrifice the man for no reason.”

“I gotta few reasons. So do they,” he replied, nodding to Andy and George. “I bet tha people he sent up had theirs an’ ‘is wife probly had ‘ers.”

“It’s still not –”

“It is – but I gotta better reason than payback. When I gave ‘im a shake in tha wind before, we suddenly had more bear-dogs than she needed fer one scrawny jackass. If tha plan depends on takin’ ‘em out hard an’ heavy, he’s tha right bait t’ guarantee good numbers.”

“Then we have to provide him with sufficient protection.”

“Be my guest, Red, but don’t jeopardize tha whole thing fer a piece o’ shit like that. I’ll be a li’l too busy t’ babysit, or t’ look fer Hook myself; ya can juggle a bit if ya want, but ya might hafta make a choice. More people die if ya choose ‘im – innocent people.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she responded, her voice chilly. “I can handle it.”

“That’s it fer tha plannin’, then. We gotta few hours left ‘til dawn; get some sleep if ya can, all o’ ya. I’m on watch.”

~ ~ ~

_Logan?_

_Ya should be sleepin’._

_I can’t. We’ll be risking our lives tomorrow –_

_Best reason fer a nap I ever heard._

_Damn it, stop it! Stop pushing me away!_

He lifted his chin from his chest and stared across the distance at her. Her angry emerald eyes snapped at him in the dim light of torches that would soon burn out.

She was wrapped in the cured bear-dog skin he had fetched for her after noticing her shivering in her sleep an hour before. Sitting up to face him where he stood leaning against the stone beside the exit tunnel, she broke his stunned mental silence.

_I’m sorry – but I don’t want to go fight for my life in a few hours, and other people’s lives, too, while at odds with you. Can’t we just concentrate on what we have to do and worry about the rest when it’s over?_

_We’ll hafta, Red – nap time’s done._

_What?_

_Yer subterranean clock’s off; tha sun’s comin’ up. It’s sacrifice time, darlin’._

_Logan, you can’t risk Reece out there with us; he’d be helpless._

_Didn’t mean ‘im; don’t worry – it’ll be me doin’ tha sacrificin’. If it makes ya happy, I’ll make sure they’re too busy t’ chomp on ‘im._

_All of us surviving this would make me happy._

_Wake Waldo up, then. We should be upstairs an’ ready before real daylight starts._

Logan watched her rise and approach, leaving the brindle fur in a heap near Andy. When she touched his shoulder and leaned in, attempting to kiss him, he turned his head. Stepping away from her, he backed into the tunnel.

“I only wanted...”

“Ya wanted t’ get t’ it an’ now’s tha time – sooner tha better.”

He walked off and left her, unable to face the pain in her eyes, or hide the need in his own. Yet he couldn’t focus on the fight at hand if he allowed her indecisive nature to pull him in two directions at once.

_There’ll be plenty o’ time fer that after we collar Hook an’ get tha hell back t’ tha world. Don’t think I’ll rush home t’ wait while she makes up ‘er mind, though. Gettin’ outta this caper’ll call fer a real vacation: booze, stogies an’ maybe an ass t’ kick, just fer fun. Wonder what Sabretooth’s up t’?_

The freezing pre-dawn wind blew through the entrance cavern, laden with the howls of bear-dogs. Behind him, he heard Jean and Reece, soon to exit the tunnel.

 _Here we go, Hook. May tha best mutant win._  A fierce, cruel smile displayed his fangs to the wind.  _Oughta warn ya, though – that’s usually me._


	9. Siren Song

I died today, but I’m still breathing  
bleeding, for now, I’m broken  
You left me here, capsized and sinking  
thinking, right now, there’s no more good guys

You left me standing here, alone and colder  
I hope that someday soon, the pain inside will stop  
You died today, but you’re still breathing  
in my mind, that is, there’s no more good guys

I hoped you’d see me, I hoped you’d understand  
Or crucify me for my failings  
my cruel ambition, hardly justified  
and the pain inside will ... stop

~ No More Good Guys (Skindive)

*****************************************************************

“I guess we’re ready,” Jean said as she emerged with Reece.

Steeling herself to endure Logan’s distant coldness, she tried to face him without wincing, ashamed of her part in the new rift between them.

 _Focus on the fight,_  she thought.  _If you don’t, you could get people killed._  Frowning at the terrified Reece, she amended,  _Including people you actually care about, beyond this one._

Logan nodded once. “Well, I don’t gotta practice gruntin’ – seem t’ have it down good. Looks like tha opposition is up fer it, too; let’s go.”

The wind strengthened, almost blowing her off of her feet, the moment Reece left the caverns at her side. Snow was lifted and blown through the air, obscuring her vision. In the midst of the rising storm, ghostly images of strange objects appeared and disappeared around them. Her boot struck a distinctly modern metal pipe, which morphed into a long human femur bone before she kicked it out of her way.

_Logan, do you see these things? What is she doing?_

_Goin’ nuts? This is toe-t’-toe, Red – odds are, she feels it. Better keep a close eye on Waldo an’ a mental ear, too. Dodgier it gets, tha more opportunity can knock ya off yer feet._

Jean felt her growing fears calm with his advice. His mind was still with her ... for now.

“Phoenix!” Reece called over the threatening howls of bear-dogs. “Hellena is attempting to communicate – can you sense her location?”

Jean startled at the sight of one of the gray monsters leaping out at Logan. With a ~snikt~ and a swipe, it fell on either side of him – but many more were crowding in to take its place.

Without turning, she shouted to Reece, “You can hear her? I can’t get a bead on her mind. Tell her we’re trying to help her!”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice fading in the storm. “I will...”

Reaching for Hellena’s mind voice, pushing her range in sweeps across the snow, she didn’t care when she felt Reece slip away from her hold on his thoughts. It was for his protection more than theirs from him and if he preferred short freedom to longer life, so be it. The last thought she heard was a whisper of his desire to flee the fight and return to the caverns.

_Run, then, damn you – we’ve obviously got Hellena’s attention good enough._

A savage roar, not from Logan’s throat, turned her in time to see Reece dodge an attacking bear-dog. He picked up the femur bone Jean had kicked and tried to swing it at the brute, but missed. Barely jumping out of the way in time, he stared as the creature barreled past him.

“Stay or run,” she called out to him. “Either way, you’d better fight as you go! I can’t watch every direction at once!”

“I know,” he replied, stumbling closer beside her. “She told me.”

“What?”

She never saw the bone until after it hit her skull – she saw it in Reece’s mind as she reached out to snare him again, saw him drop it and watch it melt into the trampled snow.

The wind came up in a rush, knocking her onto her back, the cold penetrating deep into her body. As her mind dimmed, somewhere inside herself, she heard a thin, wheezing laughter.

*****************************************************************

Logan turned between one furry assailant and the next and saw Jean lying in the snow on her back. Hook was trying to drive him feral, but fear for Jean pushed the red haze back.

Ripping into bear-dogs as he went, wounding, amputating, gutting – he made it to Jean’s side. She was unconscious, but he couldn’t see anything wrong with her.

“What tha hell happened, Reece? Make it quick!”

The slender man shuddered, shaking his head. “I didn’t see it happen. I told her Hellena was reaching out to us – she must have attacked her, in her mind.”

Logan glared at him, but he didn’t have anything he could have used for a weapon.  _How could he do anythin’ t’ ‘er? ‘Course, just cuz I can’t figure it out don’t mean he’s innocent. Can’t really smell if he’s lyin’ in this damn crazy wind, neither._

He was going to tell Reece to stay close and watch her, at a loss of how to find Hook without her, when Jean opened her eyes with a start.

“Ya okay, Red? All in one piece?”

She looked at him, staring oddly, and then she smiled. “Your name is Logan, and you want to kill me.”

The wind turned, her scent hit him, and he growled, horrified. Pulling Reece behind him, away from her, he shouted, “How flexible are ya?”

“What? Why?”

“Oh, I dunno – I just thought ya might wanna stick yer head between yer legs an’ kiss yer ass goodbye! Cuz if Phoenix can’t toss this hell bitch out, we’re all gonna be in a world o’ hurt!”

Watching his possessed teammate rise, he felt every hair on his body stand up. She didn’t even move like Jean, as though she didn’t know how to use the tall woman’s limbs.

_This is gonna suck. C’mon, Jeannie, kick tha she-witch out, I need ya!_

A snarl reminded him that Hook’s claiming of his friend’s body wasn’t the only problem at hand. He turned his head to see how many bear-dogs were close and startled to see half of them fade and disappear.

_Removin’ tha fodder I need t’ kill t’ knock ya low, huh? Smart. Or maybe that’s not tha only reason – maybe Red’s a bit too much t’ handle? Hell, I hope so, cuz this ain’t gonna be fun._

Jean’s hijacked mutant powers hit him at once, the telekinesis knocking him to the ground and holding him there as it tried to pull his limbs off. The telepathy did not attack his mind, however – it carried to him the inner fight Hook was having with her host. The confusion of it stunned him, but then he felt the telekinesis lessen and fade.

Struggling to his feet, he growled.  _Bitch can’t hold it, cuz she dunno how t’ use it, an’ Jeannie’s fightin’ ‘er tooth an’ claw. She’ll try t’ mind-mangle me next – telepathy bein’ somethin’ she knows pretty good. Hang on t’ yer brains, bub, it gets bumpy from here!_ The thought was washed over by the red rage of the feral beast within, and Logan’s battered mind rippled with surprise.  _Why use that with all o’ tha rich targets in my head?_

He fought her assault, but it was difficult – not because she was stronger, but because it was easier to be the beast, easier to fight, to win.

_Can’t ... hurt Jeannie... Beasties, kill ... kill tha monsters..._

With his last grasp on human choice, he took a deep breath and turned his back on the possessed Phoenix. Instinct screamed at him to face that threat, but he ignored it, focusing on the few bear-dogs that remained.

They crouched and slunk closer, keeping low, but eager to attack. Not caring if they jumped at once, he launched himself at the biggest one near him, the shining claws erupting from his body at the same moment that the beast claimed his mind.

~ ~ ~

A black and a gray snapped at his body until his claws sheared the black’s muzzle away from its head. Stumbling away from him, its death throes frenzied the others of its pack.

Roaring his challenge as more appeared from the whirling snow around him, he paused as he came to the human male. A low growl thrummed in his throat, but he knew that his mate wanted to protect this creature.

The gray female leapt for the human and he intercepted, slamming into her and rolling her into the bloody snow, his fangs finding her throat and tearing it open.

A new threat struck from behind and he whirled, only to stop in shock. It was his mate, she had joined the fight. Why had she attacked him? A growl rumbling in his throat, he caught her scent.

_It is strange. It is ... not mate..._

He watched her lift a long, heavy object from the snow, a bone. She swung it through the air where his head had been moments before he leapt out of the way. Lips curling back from his teeth in a snarl, he gave her his warning – but she advanced, the bone club ready to harm.

 _Scent is wrong. Not mate..._ The snarl opened to a howl of challenge as rage rushed through heated veins. The rising sun glinted off of his claws as he readied himself to kill.

*****************************************************************

Plagued by a shifting double vision as she fought to expel her enemy from her body, Jean knew what Hellena would try to do. She had stolen it from her mind – the fear of Wolverine attacking her.

He had crouched in the snow, ready to spring, the deadly claws aimed for her chest and throat.

_She’s changed my scent – he doesn’t know me now!_

Gathering her will with the fear of Logan’s claws lending her strength, she shoved at the weaker telepath, shaking off the sluggish aftereffects of the blow she’d received to her head.

_I’m not going to let you pin me with my friend’s claws, you witch! You’ve taken everything, twisted and ruined it – but I won’t let you destroy us!_

Summoning the telekinesis that Hellena hadn’t been able to control, Jean launched herself into the sky at the moment when Logan’s murderous attack would have sliced her in half.

 _Get out!_  Rage burned her, her telepathic gift opening to engulf the white plain. Hanging in the air over the bloody snow, she turned her telekinesis on herself.

A psychic scream sliced into her mind, and then her body burst into flame, the fire whirling, rising, into a vast shape of shimmering wings. She shouted out in triumph as she felt her enemy slip, the feeble will falling away from her at last.

 _Now to find you,_  Jean thought, smiling at the fear of the creatures below her as her fire consumed the enemy’s storm. The rush of power was a drug and leaking into it ... a desire to destroy. Gasping in shock, she violently rejected the haze of wrath that sought to claim her.  _Oh, God, not again – I can’t fall to that, ever!_  Shaking her head, she came back to herself.  _Logan ... and Reece._

The fire exploded and left her as her telekinesis lowered her slowly down to her feet on the snow.

Turning first to her friend, she reached inside his mind to attempt to cut the cords of her own power which had forced him into a feral state. To her shock, she realized the Phoenix Force had already freed him.

 _Was it helping? Or was it trying to kill them all?_  Retreating from Logan’s mind in confusion, she shuddered. Steps crunched through the snow behind her and her fear almost pushed her into the terrifying rage again. Whirling, she faced Reece as he approached from behind her.

“Phoenix,” he said, panting in fear, “you’ve defeated her –”

Jean frowned, balled her fist, and punched him in the jaw. He fell to the snow, half on his back with his buckled legs under him. His hand lifted to wipe blood from his lips.

“Yeah, I did. Pick up another bone and I’ll kill you before it can melt away again.”

Logan moved closer to the fallen man, his bloody claws ready. His body remained in the posture of a hunting beast, unchanged by the mind that had been restored.

“Don’t, Wolverine – if anyone’s going to kill him, I’ve earned it.”

“Didn’t figure Hook would make bone clubs fer ya an’ then unmake ‘em, Waldo; shoulda known she’d use ya t’ get t’ us, though, one way or ‘nother. Probly tha only reason she ain’t killed ya ‘erself yet.”

_Logan, look at the bear-dogs – why are they attacking each other?_

He turned to look and stepped back a pace in shock. Jean gasped, watching the remaining monsters as they seemed to want to climb each other.

More of them were created out of each one that began to struggle with its pack mates, until the hideous bodies of fur, muscle, and multiple rows of needle fangs began to merge into one monstrous creature.

“What tha fuck? Bigger is better?” Logan took another step back to watch it as it grew taller than either of them. “Not all that solid yet, even. Can’t do better than that, Hook?” With a shrug, he started toward it. “Ya know what they say – tha bigger they are...”

“Wait!”

“Gettin’ tired o’ this game, Red. Wait fer what?”

“That’s not just a bigger bear-dog. It’s an id.”

“Ya lost me.”

“It’s a real manifestation of her, she may be close!”

“Great; watch where ya step while I kill this thing.”

“It’s not that simple.”

He turned his head to look at her, a glare in his blue eyes. The morphing and growing creature lifted its heads and howled as its telepathy struck his mind.

Jean didn’t see the image Hellena’s id struck him with, but it knocked him back. He stumbled, attempting to regain his balance and struggling to stand. With a snarl, he fell to his knees. Head bowed and breathing ragged, his voice was edged when he spoke.

“Well, tha bitch found tha memories o’ Proteus. Fight’s on good, now.”

Jean moved forward and helped him rise shakily to his feet. “I was trying to tell you – an id is a mental projection of a telepath, which means this monster has telepathy. It’ll be stronger than just making bear-dog bodies, too, probably a last ditch effort since possessing me failed.”

“If she can do that, why not just make a body t’ live in, instead o’ tryin’ t’ steal one?”

“An id is a personification of extreme emotion and distress, not a body she could keep; once the emotion is spent, the id will dissipate. With her mutant ability to make it flesh and blood, you could fight it, maybe kill it – but that might kill her with it.”

“Runnin’ outta give-a-damn ‘bout that, Red.”

“Just keep it busy while I lock on to where her real body is. If I can find her, I can force her to dissolve it and to break this alternate reality, too – I hope.”

“Well, while yer hopin’, put tha feral whammy on me like ya did before.”

“What? Why?”

“Cuz tha beastie don’t care ‘bout nauseatin’ old visions – just makes ‘im meaner.”

“She’s tried to turn you against me; odds are she’ll try it again.”

“So TK me if I go fer ya. We’re runnin’ low on options. ‘Sides, if ya put me in tha red haze yerself, ya might be able t’ bring me back outta it faster, like ya did a minute ago.”

Jean hesitated for only a moment, but then she saw the monster, which towered over them now, head for the defenseless Reece. Its long hairy arms, more like a human than a bear-dog, began to reach for him as he screamed.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Jean took a deep breath and entered Logan’s mind. “This feels … so wrong...”

“It’s a risk, Red – but don’t lemme eat ya.”

She opened her eyes to see him smirking at her, but then her probe twisted and altered him as Hellena had earlier, polluting her gifts. When it was done, the smirk faded and the eyes turned blank.

“Logan,” she whispered.

The beast left her. She surged forward to drag Reece back as the two titans of monstrosity roared and clashed in a whirl of teeth and claws.

“What is happening?” Reece asked, his voice frantic.

Jean looked up to see Logan knock the id to the ground, his claws flashing. It rolled, snapped, and rose – only to turn away from its opponent and reach for Reece.

“Run!” Jean shouted at him. She sprinted out of the monster’s path, but the crunch of bones and wet screams told her that the anthropologist had not been fast enough.

When Logan attacked the id again to draw it away from her, Jean stood over Reece’s broken body. The snowstorm had died with him, as if it cost their enemy too much energy to maintain it.

Looking away from the cracked glasses on the man’s smashed skull, she watched the fight for a moment, until a gleam of gold in the morning light caught her eye. It shone against the snow, billowing like a candle flame in the light wind.

_Hellena..._

*****************************************************************

The enemy was abruptly afraid. His killing lust was charged by this fear and as the creature attempted to retreat, he gathered himself to spring up onto it again.

Pressure, pressure behind his eyes – shaking his head, he tried to dislodge it. Glaring up again, he snarled to see his mate standing between him and his prey.

“Logan, stop, I’ve found her! Come back to me!”

Pressure, like a weight on his head, turned the snarl into a roar. It wasn’t coming from his mate, it was the prey.

He leapt up, ignoring the scream of his mate and the explosion of her fear scent. Propelling himself over her, his body struck her, knocking her into the snow as his claws found their mark.

The enemy toppled as the claws sank deep and he rode it down as it fell. Striking the white powder, it blew it up in puffs. He lowered his mouth to tear out the throat – but the prey disappeared.

In its place was a female, slight and young – and dead.


	10. Cleansing Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section goes back a few minutes to show Jean’s part of the end of the fight.

And through the grief and pain, I’m half insane  
I give an inch you take a mile  
You throw away the key, ignore my plea  
You cut me down without a trial

You throw a length of rope, I grab, you hope,  
It’s just enough to hang myself  
I make a fatal slip, I lose my grip  
There’s no one left to call for help

Hanging by a thread  
Leaving me for dead  
I’m not finished yet  
I’m still hanging by a thread

~ Hanging by a Thread (Mike & the Mechanics)

*****************************************************************

Jean rushed to the slight, pale form half buried in the snow, dropping to her knees beside her. The bit of blonde hair she had spotted blowing in the wind was clinging to the wasted skull in clumps and patches. The eyes, closed and still, were sunken in their sockets, but she could feel a spark of life hiding in the soul of the sad child’s body.

A breath away, two horrific beasts fought to the death and she knew which one would win – if she didn’t stop him.

 _I have to break your hold on this made-up reality, Hellena, but I can’t help you if you’re dead._ Rising, she swallowed hard and moved closer to the bloody battle.

Watching Logan fight, especially in a feral rage, had always terrified her. His brutality and killing skill were frightening enough, but it was hard, too, to see the hideous wounds open and close in his flesh.

One of the id’s three bear-dog heads opened its mouth and sank double rows of long needle teeth into his torso. The head shook, making terrible rents in her friend’s body, showing ribs moments before the flesh knit back together again.

His feral mind did not seem to grasp that he was injured, but why should it? The wounds healed so fast that they never had a chance to slow him down.

_God, I don’t want to walk into that._

With a twist of revulsion, she made a decision and entered his mind. Pressing into the feral non-thoughts of the beast, she tried to free the mind of the man once more. His resistance shocked her, his mental strength, even in that state, so intense that she could barely get a grip on the mind at all.

Doubling her efforts, she bent more of her telepathic force into his psyche, knowing it might not be enough, yet afraid of what could happen if she pushed too hard. The ease with which the Phoenix Force had done this both terrified and angered her, knowing it could have simply been intending to kill her friend.

He was only moments away from killing the id – the creature that was currently housing the young mutant’s soul. Biting her lower lip, Jean rushed forward and when the combatants broke apart for a breath of time, she moved to stand between them.

Aloud, she cried out, “Logan, stop, I’ve found her. Come back to me!”

The beast Logan had become snarled, roared, and leapt at her. Jean screamed, only to realize that he was going to jump over her, not at her. The jump was low, going for vitals on the id creature, and his shoulder struck her in the chest, knocking her onto her back in the snow.

Wrenching her head around to look, she cried out at the sight of all six claws stabbing in under the creature’s ribs, until Logan’s hands were buried by its fur. His roar of triumph echoed in the morning air as it fell into the snow beside her, spraying her with frost. Yet when he lowered his mouth to the throat, intending to tear it out, the monstrous id disappeared.

Logan’s body was splayed in a hunter’s crouch, his fists against a battered young girl’s ribs.

Jean rolled to her stomach, hid her face in her arms, and wept.

~ ~ ~

~Snakt~.

The sound woke her from a faint of exhaustion. Lifting her head, Jean watched as the snow began to melt away.

_No, not melting – disappearing._

Rising to a sitting position, she held herself and shivered, though it wasn’t cold anymore. The snow retreated like a tide turning as grass, leaves, and trees sprouted up in its wake.

The huge black mountain shrank, its normal modern topography rising to absorb it, until it was nothing more than a wide, dark opening in the distance through the trees. A remote sound startled her, and then she realized it was a car driving down a road somewhere through the woods.

Turning, she saw Logan standing over the body of the mutant girl. He was nude, but didn’t seem to care. His clenched fists were still smeared with Hellena’s blood.

Jean stayed where she was, sitting on the grass dressed only in her boots and socks. She drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. Staring at the girl she’d tried to save, she let her tears fall.

They both startled when footsteps ran toward them. Recognizing the two men they’d left in the caverns, park ranger Andy and tourist George, Logan relaxed from his tense fighting stance. They were naked, horrified, and possibly stunned by shock. Without a word, they sat in the grass like she had and kept their eyes on their bare feet.

“Stay here, stay t’gether,” Logan spoke up, making the other two flinch. Jean only sighed. “I’ll go educate some poor slob an’ flag down help.”

“We won’t say anything,” Andy reassured her. “Not about what happened, or how it was ... stopped.”

“Who would believe us?” George added. “We’re better off not saying a word; I intend to tell them I was mugged and got lost in the damn woods. It would explain our birthday suits.”

Logan grunted. “Good excuse as any – fer people that don’t know me.” Jean shuddered as she watched him wipe the blood on his knuckles over his furry thighs. “Ya awright here fer a bit?” he asked her.

“Yes, we’ll be fine.”

“What about her?” Andy asked, glancing over at the girl’s corpse with pity in his eyes.

They were silent and still as the last of the snow melted from the still face and slipped down the waxen cheeks like tears.

~ ~ ~

Jean watched as the covered body of Hellena was being placed in the back of a coroner’s van. The ambulance that had come first had left again carrying the crushed body of Reece and another vehicle was pulling up to take his wife to the city morgue in Bowling Green. She supposed one of them must have taken the corpse of Kendall, too, after Andy showed them the cairns.

The four survivors had been questioned extensively, singly and as a group, but none of them had said anything about the alternate world they had been lost in. George had turned out to be a gifted inventor of cover stories and no one had questioned it. Then they learned that the park had their own cover up for Wendy’s disappearance. Somewhere between the two, the truth would probably never be known except by those who had escaped it.

Andy and George stood near Jean, wrapped in blankets like she was, but their thoughts told her they were eager to depart.

“I guess we’ll never know much about Hellena,” Jean muttered. Standing from her perch on a fallen tree trunk, she looked down at Logan.

He had squatted on his heels at her feet. Silent and moody, he passed a pine cone back and forth from hand to hand. The startled family that had stopped their camper to help when he flagged them down had given him a blue windbreaker jacket. He’d tied the sleeves around his hips to spare their two kids and hadn’t bothered with blankets brought later by the rangers and police. He certainly looked odd, but his state of mind was what worried her.

“I ... need to go ... and find my wife,” George said. “Thank you, both of you, for saving our lives.”

Andy actually embraced her, whispering his thanks, before he followed the other man to the knot of rangers and police waiting nearby.

Into the limited silence, broken by civilization not far away, Jean said, “We’re cleared to go by the locals. I’ve called Ororo, she’s gathering some clothes. They’ll bring the Blackbird for us.”

“Not fer me,” Logan answered as he stood, tossing the pine cone away. “Ask Stormy t’ stick my scoot in tha hold, would ya? I’ll get home on my own.”

“Logan...” She tried to touch his shoulder, but he moved away.

“Got nothin’ left t’ say fer now, Jeannie – need t’ clear my head. I’ll see ya when they get here.”

“Can’t we…?”

“Know who’s gonna be pilotin’ tha birdie? Yer insignificant other. Don’t much feel like chattin’ with Slim right now, darlin’. Whistle fer me when they drop off tha scoot, huh? I’m gonna take a walk.”

Jean watched him go, too numb to even think for a moment. The police and park rangers had left when she told them that they had friends coming to pick them up. She’d added to her guilt just a little by nudging them to hike back to the road and drive away.

As for the weird snowy phenomenon, no one on the outside had seen it. Park officials had stepped in, quick to distract everyone with their extravagant explanation of what had happened to the poor people who got lost in the caverns and woods that day, muggers aside.

_They’re calling it, ‘gases released in the caverns’ and saying the victims had hallucinated. Reece killed his wife, and he, Hellena, and Kendall were mauled by ‘an unidentified animal, perhaps a bear’. It’s all so pat and neat, with the caverns closed pending an investigation. I wonder if they’ll really investigate anything._

Logan had only been gone a short time when her scans picked up the arrival of the plane. It came cloaked and in stealth mode, landing in a vertical drop in a meadow, and not one policeman or nearby ranger was aware of it.

 _He’ll hear it, he always does._  Swallowing hard, but not bothering to call to Logan, her fists held her blanket securely closed as she walked to the plane with her head held high.  _Maybe Ororo won’t notice that anything is wrong? I know Scott won’t._

*****************************************************************

_She was just a kid – maybe fourteen. If I’d had my brains, Jean coulda stopped ‘er an’ saved ‘er life, too. Then they’d probly have taken ‘er back with ‘em t’ Westchester an’ rehabilitated ‘er int’ a good li’l mutant. Wonder if she woulda wanted that?_

The trees were not silent, but the light breeze made a peaceful rustling music through them as it went on its way to anywhere or nowhere.

_So where am I goin’?_

As his mutant gifts of heightened senses tracked the arrival of the Blackbird, he knew where he wasn’t going, no matter what they said to try to change his mind.

_Jeannie ain’t callin’, neither – so much fer that. Hope Stormy didn’t forget tha scoot._

He veered through the trees to meet the plane in the nearby meadow. The first person to emerge and greet Jean was Storm. After her, he spotted the White Queen of all people, bringing his red Harley down the ramp.

 _What tha hell’s Emma doin’ on a run like this? School’s on, ain’t it?_ He moved around to emerge from the woods behind them. When the blonde telepath put the kickstand down on a fallen branch and straightened, Logan spoke gruffly at her shoulder, satisfied when she startled. “Teacher’s playin’ hooky?”

“Hardly. Professor Xavier is taking over for me today so we could come out and fetch you two, among other vital missions.”

“Huh.” Something about her body language was guarded, secretive – almost guilty. He met her gaze, half warning glare and half appeal, and shrugged. “Thanks fer cartin’ down tha scoot.”

Nodding, she smiled. “My pleasure. Ororo has clothes and boots for you.”

Storm handed a backpack to Jean before she came up to him holding a bundle wrapped in black leather. She hugged him. “It is good to find you both safe. I, at least, was worried. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us now?”

“Need a break, darlin’ – won’t be too long.”

“Then you’ll need these,” she answered. Releasing him, she produced one of his steel cigar cases from his room out of the middle of the bundle. “There is a matchbook inside as well.”

“This is why yer called a life saver, ‘Ro. Thanks!”

“Thank me by never wearing such an unsuitable nylon toga again – your reputation is at stake.”

Grinning at her teasing, Logan laughed. “Repurposed tourist duds are more ‘suitable’ than what I was wearin’ – pure Tarzan sheik; ya ladies mighta blushed.”

“They might have,” Emma said with a smirk. Her long white coat hid most of her typically risqué clothing.

Raising an eyebrow at the blonde, Storm clicked her tongue. “I’ve seen you at your best and your worst; unlike some, I can tell the difference between the two.”

“Slim on tha joystick in there? Bet he’s pissed I got tha missus mixed up in my clusterfuck ‘mission’.” Logan ignored the startled look Jean gave him, while noting that Emma paid too much attention to it.

Storm sighed. “You’ve both been gone longer than expected, but we didn’t have time to discover if you needed assistance. Scott said if you did, Jean would send a message. Belatedly, we learned that had been impossible. We’ve come to pick you up on the way to another emergency as it is. It’s in New York City, but could be troublesome – two telepaths may be better than one.”

“Better scamper, then. See ya, Red.” He didn’t wait for Jean to respond before turning away.

Emma led Jean off. “I need to brief you on the mission.”

“Talk with me a moment, my friend?” Storm asked.

With a shrug and nod, he followed Storm into the trees away from them. He smirked when she dug out a pair of his boxers first and held them out. He’d already dropped the windbreaker. After the old days at the swimming hole in Australia, modesty between them was pointless. Still, her silent respectful admiration soothed his singed feelings some.

Socks, jeans, belt, boots and a white undershirt later, he felt a little better. Taking the leather jacket last, he smiled. “Not an X in sight – ya know me well, darlin’.”

“If you want to talk about anything, I’ll likely be home before you are. Don’t be away too long? We need you and are quite addicted to your company.”

“Ya wouldn’t enjoy my comp’ny just now, ‘Ro. Well, ya might, but others wouldn’t. One bit o’ lip from Slim t’day an’ I’d be tempted t’ split one o’ ‘is.”

She smiled and embraced him again. “It could perhaps do him some good. Be safe, my dear friend.”

Because he knew she would allow it, he kissed her. For the walk back, she had her arm over his shoulders. She smelled like rain and flowers even in her uniform and her warmth felt like home.

“Watch out fer Jean, huh? She’s had a rough time o’ it.”

“And you?”

“I bounce back faster.” She released him at the bike and stood out of the way. “See ya, darlin’.”

Putting the kickstand up, he straddled the motorcycle and cranked it, letting its roar drown out the farewells of the others. Snapping fallen twigs, he drove off without speeding, half hoping Jean would send him a mental hail. When she didn’t, he frowned, but did not stop or look back.

Behind him, the Blackbird rose within moments of its ramp door being secured. He listened as it went up and then streaked away.

*****************************************************************

Jean spent the flight back to New York sitting silently in her chair next to Ororo, grateful to be suited up in a black leather team uniform once more.

Emma Frost was in the co-pilot seat. Scott had managed to nod to Jean when she had settled behind him before take-off. Hands gripping the arms of her chair, she tried to calm herself.

_Nothing has changed, has it? Nothing except that I know now what it’s like to have what I want, in some way … in a different way. Why can’t I take what Logan and I shared and have that with my husband? I can’t just walk away from all we’ve been through, since we were teens._

She twitched when Ororo’s slender fingers covered the whitened knuckles of her hand. Turning her head to look at her friend, she fought the tears that tried to rise.

“Little is resolved for you, I know,” Ororo said, her tone soft and private. “If you want or need anything, I am here for you.”

“I know.” Grateful for her offer, yet eager to change the subject, she asked, “So what have I missed? At the school, I mean? I told you what we’ve been dealing with.”

“The short version, perhaps. Well, Charles has a new idea – some call it brilliant, others think he’s wrong to try it – but he is proposing opening the school up to non-mutant students. It’s just an idea as of yet, but he’d like to organize an ‘Open Day’ when prospective students and their parents could come and visit the school. The goal, in theory, is integration to turn the tide of persecution, eventually. So – what do you think?”

Leaning back in the chair as her fingers wove with Ororo’s to hold her hand, Jean closed her eyes. “I’m too tired to think right now, about anything.”

~ ~ ~

Scott had taught her many things over the years and now he was teaching her something new – how to ignore one’s spouse. Just as she had started to excel at it, he turned the tables and abruptly wanted to speak with her about their problems, but not with words.

Pacing in the sitting room of their suite in the mansion, Scott finally stopped and turned to face her. “Why won’t you do this for me?”

Privately, she thought, _Open up and share with you telepathically – for what?_  Knowing her reluctance was multi-faceted, she shifted on her chair.  _I can’t let him see..._  “You’ve ignored me for months unless you were giving orders. I think Apocalypse changed you more than you thought. Now you’ve decided we have to ‘share’ and I should just jump?”

“You’re holding that against me. Are you disgusted with me, that I can’t bounce back as unscathed as Logan? He doesn’t even know who he is, or if that’s really his name! Why is it fair to compare me to him?”

 _Because he’s better than you, at everything that matters, and because he knows who I am, whether he knows himself or not._  “I think you need to remember who you are and who I am, before I submit to any more demands from you.”

“Submit? Jean!”

She rose and went to the door without looking back. “Figure that out, Scott Summers, before you try talking to me again. Either that, or remember what I am to you and start acting like I matter to you. Until then, we have nothing more to say to each other.”

“The Dark Phoenix force is rising in you again and you know it; Professor Xavier has been concerned about it, too. We have to –”

“You have to sort out your problems, Scott. Do not presume that you are capable of sorting out mine.”

She left him standing there speechless and went out. A short walk down the hall, in the men’s dormitories section of the residential wing, she entered Logan’s closed door without stopping to consider why.

Downstairs and sideways in the house, she could sense several people in the kitchen, both students and staff – but no one else was in the rooms close to her.

Closing the door behind her, she turned and leaned her back against it. Logan lived simply and he had never wanted one of the opulent suites with different rooms to himself. His private area consisted of a bedroom with one large window, a walk-in closet full of clothes, and a bathroom.

The furniture was minimal, too, as were the personal possessions. A queen-size bed with a simple black iron frame, a worn armchair, and a bookcase full of eclectic volumes were the only American pieces in the room. A low wooden Japanese altar stood against the opposite wall, with a plain katana hanging on the wall over it. The altar held a few odd bits of this and that from many strange travels, but the dominant features were a bowl for burning incense and a framed photograph of a refined Japanese woman.

Holding herself lightly, she moved into the room to look at the photograph.

“Mariko Yashida. You were beautiful and I wish I had met you. You met Madelyn Prior, the night before you were going to marry Logan. That was before everything fell apart, too, for all of us … but you loved him, maybe you understood him? Whether you did or not, you chose him. I wish I could.”

On impulse, she knelt before the woman’s image and opened the little side cabinet of the altar. Taking out a cone of incense and a matchbook, she placed the cone in the small ornate bowl and lit it. She breathed in the pungent smoke as she put the matches back and closed the cabinet.

“It’s cherry, like the blossoms in your country – a place he still loves. I’m so sorry for you both.”

Rising, she moved to the bed and laid down on it where she could see the photo and watch the smoke curl up to the curved blade.

_That’s not the same sword that used to hang there. He gave it back to them, didn’t he? Probably to make a deal with them, something to do with honor, no doubt – something to honor you? He’s so much more than the beast within, I know that, but I want the man, not the beast. I wonder if you felt the same._

As the smoke lulled her ragged nerves and lonesome spirit, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, knowing Logan did this himself, quite often. Yet peace would not come to her – only the longing to touch him, to have him give her everything she ever wanted ... if only for a little while.

With a start, she opened her eyes again, her breath coming faster.  _Scott was right. The Phoenix Force is restless, manifesting more often in strange ways, dark ways. Is that why Hellena could manipulate me into such a callous creature so easily?_  “Logan,” she whispered, “you aren’t the only one with an inner beast. Wherever you are, don’t stay away long – please come home to me. I’m ... afraid ... of myself.”

*****************************************************************

Bowling Green had obliged him with a decent diner and a liquor store. Now, with Kentucky far behind him, he headed north into Indiana up Interstate 65, and then over on Interstate 90 into Illinois.

 _Chicago, tha Windy City: always good fer a tussle an’ a brew. Left ‘nother hapless mutant waif here, too, not so long ago – after she decided Chuck’s rules soured ‘er stomach._ Growling to himself, he muttered into the wind as he drove on into the city. “‘Nother hapless mutant waif I failed t’ help – more’n once.”

~ ~ ~

After a day or two of hunting, Logan finally got his first whiff of the young mutant called Rooke. The scent was a flash and it was full of fear. She was on foot, too, running through a storm that the city seemed to dredge up just to persecute her. Leaving his motorcycle under cover at the motel he had adopted in the bad part of town, he took to the rooftops to pursue his mark.

He had always been faster than she was, and before long he spotted her visually through the rain and wind. The fact that the girl was naked, her cybernetic bits damaged and sparking as they repaired themselves, wasn’t all that surprising. Rooke’s unofficial mutant talent was for getting herself into trouble – deep.

She mixed up her directions, probably not paying attention to the junk Spiral had put in her head to avoid this sort of thing, and ended up stuck down a dead end alley. Going to ground between the meager shelter of a metal dumpster and a brick wall, she crouched: wet, miserable, and terrified.

Not wanting to shock her by jumping down from the roof over her head, Logan went around the long way, leaping off onto the main street near the corner. In the spirit of being ready for anything, he popped the claws on his right hand before entering the alley and heading for the dumpster. He moved warily, on the lookout for whatever menace the girl was running from.

He discovered that she was aware of his presence when he felt her weak probe reach to identify his mind. Comparing the touch of Jean’s mind to this child was laughable, but he knew most telepaths had trouble reading him.

 _Brains are too scrambled fer ‘er t’ get through ‘em,_ he thought, not sure if she’d pick the words out or not. He saw her risk a peek and then shrink back out of sight again, her fear scent growing stronger. _Aw, hell, tha pup’s got no idea it’s me. Shit._ Annoyed at himself, he retracted his claws with an echoing ~snakt~.

He advanced, walking normally, and knelt to look at her where she was huddled against the dumpster. The rain drummed down on them both, making a hideous racket on the top of her metal shelter.

She was sitting naked in the dirty rainwater, arms around her legs, forehead on knees and shuddering as she tried to shrink away from him. She winced when she knew he was there but didn’t try to escape.

 _Does she think I’m what’s chasin’ ‘er or I’m somethin’ new come t’ mess with ‘er?_ “Gotta admit, darlin’ – expected ya t’ do a bit better’n this with what we taught ya.”

“Wolvie?” She uncurled immediately and reached out for him but by the time he picked her up, she had fainted.

Setting her down again briefly, he stripped off his sodden leather jacket and put it on her. She was taller than he was, so it didn’t cover her much but it would do for the short trip back to his room.

~ ~ ~

He knew Jean wouldn’t have approved but at that moment, the welfare of the girl was more important than worries about propriety. Besides, he knew Rooke wouldn’t care that he had bathed her before tucking her into bed. She’d tried for more than a bath before, anyway.

After going out to fetch clothes for her and whiskey for him, he settled in to guard her as she slept, wondering what or who she’d managed to annoy enough to put her in the state he’d found her in.

His jacket was dripping again, hung on a hook on the back of the door. He’d managed to keep her new clothes dry but had sacrificed the Jack Daniels label. His thumb toyed with the ragged paper as he sat at the table not far from the bed, boots on the next chair. He didn’t watch her sleep – her tossing and turning through unknown nightmares only reminded him that his life had become one.

Logan heard her sniff when she woke. She’d been crying in her sleep. He kept his eyes on the bottle, breathing in the slight scent of mold and dust in the room. One corner of the ceiling by the bathroom doorway boasted a spreading water stain and the heating unit rattled loudly – but at least it worked. He felt uncomfortably warm himself, even stripped down to his white undershirt, but the temperature had been chosen for her.

Rooke sat up Indian-style, held herself to stave off either cold or nightmares, and called softly, “Hi, Wolvie. Thanks for the rescue. Again.”

He tried to smile for her as he turned his head to look at her. “All in a night’s work, pun’kin.” He took a long pull on the bottle. “Anyone in particular chase ya down that alley? Needs a lesson in manners an’ I’m more’n willin’ t’ ‘blige ‘em.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

Rooke smiled but her eyes told him she would be evasive. “I – put my ass in a sling myself. Don’t act surprised just to make me feel better.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ t’.” He took his boots off of the chair to turn and face her. “Got me curious, though. Scents on ya yesterday painted quite a picture.”

“Yesterday?”

“Been sleepin’ ‘round tha clock, darlin’; it’s after six, next evenin’.”

“Oh.” She sighed and looked like she might cry again. “I don’t suppose you’d be up to keeping me company? Help a girl chase away the blues?”

“I am keepin’ ya comp’ny, from over here.”

“I could spin something entertaining –”

“Don’t start.” He stood and peered out between the closed curtains, moving them with the neck of the bottle. “Just relax an’ lemme play Uncle Logan. When ya turn eighteen ya can try again.”

“If I do – if I even can. Do I look a day older than last time?”

“Nope.” Facing her, he was silent a moment before pointing to the bathroom. “Got ya some clothes this mornin’.”

“Thanks, Uncle Logan.” She patted the bed beside her. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Without offering his opinion of her promises, he moved to her side. Leaning against the headboard, he crossed his ankles on the bed and let her snuggle up. When she reached for the whiskey, he surrendered it without a word.

“Who’d ya run int’ sportin’ Adamantium? It’s a select club.”

“If I tell you, will you rush off and fuck him up to defend my honor?”

“Maybe, dependin’ on ‘is crime – but I know ya well ‘nuff t’ know ya mighta earned tha boot. Don’t approve o’ tha method, that’s all.”

“Being sans clothes was my fault, too. I was dream spinning, with permission, but he – didn’t like my take on our boundaries.”

“Goin’ t’ play ‘I gotta secret’, huh? Yer call – but if ya need tha ol’ Canucklehead t’ weigh in, give tha word.”

She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “I wish I could – but not this one.”

“Really screwed up this time, pun’kin? Pissed off a man ya wanna keep?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Ya sound like me. Not used t’ ya givin’ a damn ‘nuff t’ be wistful.”

“I’ll ask about the latest X tragedy if you want me too.”

“No, darlin’ – don’t wanna jaw ‘bout that. Same shit, diff’rent day, right?”

Rooke smiled. “Jean should pull her head out of her ass. You beat Cyke hands down, even if you are short.”

“Leave it,” he whispered, without heat. Physical and emotional exhaustion crowded in at the mere thought of Jean. “So someone cracked yer ribcage open an’ found a heart, huh? Stole it on tha spot? Then ya pushed it an’ got pitched ass over tea kettle int’ tha storm.”

“Sort of. _Reader’s Digest_ version, I guess … but he’s not interested in me. He just wanted me to play his dead wife in his dreams. He used my telepathy to suck me in – but he didn’t realize he was doing it. Mr. Shy and Private would rather I couldn’t see the dreams at all. After a while, I got sick of phantom sex and snuck downstairs.” She sniffed. “He was so angry. He called me a rapist...”

Logan winced, his stomach lurching just at the thought of it. Even with everything else they had gone through and everything he had done, too – the memory of Jean pushing a telepathic compulsion on him to ‘service her’ still sickened and enraged him. He knew the young woman didn’t understand what she had done – but she needed to.

“So he was pissed when he woke up an’ found ya in ‘is saddle? Can’t blame ‘im. That is rape. Ya didn’t hear ‘im say, ‘yeah, fuck me, Rooke’ while he was awake, did ya?”

“No…”

He sighed. “Maybe ya shouldn’t take up with someone who doesn’t want ya fer who ya are. Ya def can’t be tryin’ t’ screw a guy who doesn’t want ya, period … ‘is reasons why he don’t – that ain’t even yer biz.”

She huffed out a breath. “No one ever made me feel like that. I didn’t know sex could be that way.”

“If yer jacked int’ ‘is need fer someone he lost, yer gettin’ some other woman’s fun, darlin’. If ya could talk ‘im int’ bed with ya legit, it’d be a diff’rent sorta sack romp – unless he loved ya.”

“I was hoping I could –”

“Ya can’t.” He couldn’t stifle a low growl as frustration sparked anger. “Rooke, ya gotta understand this. Learn it. Some people love certain people. Ya can’t change how they feel no matter what ya feel or what ya want ... an’ ya shouldn’t try. They got as much right t’ how they feel as ya do an’ forcin’ ‘em ain’t right – it’s … sickenin’.”

“But she’s dead, Wolvie! What’s the point? He can’t dig her up. Move on, damn it!” She drew in a sharp breath and he knew she felt the stab of pain her words had caused leak from his closed mind. He started to dislodge her and rise but she clung to him tightly. “I’m sorry! I forgot!” The tears came in an instant. When he relented and held her gently, they turned into sobs.

“Hate t’ see ya in pain, pun’kin,” he whispered, kissing her hair, “but some o’ us feel too strongly, love too much. Losin’ ‘em – ‘specially if it’s a shock or violence, it feels unfinished an’ it haunts ya ... sometimes forever. Don’t waste yer time gettin’ hurt by a man who’s married t’ death; find a lover who’s in love with ya.”

“I didn’t mean to say that... I loved hearing about Mariko. You had ... you both...”

“What Mi’ko-chan an’ I had can never be replaced.” He put a fingertip under her chin and made her look up at him. “Thing is, sometimes ya can find somethin’ new, that’s diff’rent ‘nuff ... an’ it can be as good.” He looked down at her with a sad smile. “Just try not t’ fall fer someone new who’s also married.”

~ ~ ~

They stood in silence as the rain turned into random drops around them, making the puddles on the asphalt shimmer in the weak morning light.

When he asked her to return with him to Westchester again, he knew she wouldn’t do it. She seemed to honestly consider it for a moment and that was something at least, but it wasn’t the life she wanted and they both knew it.

Now and then when their paths crossed, he would offer a safe place to land if she needed it, but the X-Men would expect her to tow the line if she went back.

_They don’t approve o’ ‘er revenge gig, neither; I’m tha only one o’ tha whole bunch who respects ‘er reasons fer hatin’ Magneto._

He’d brought her leather pants and boots, a Stevie Ray Vaughn t-shirt, and a black leather trench coat. Every bit of it fit perfectly, including the underthings. It was a simple trick – she wore the same sizes as Jean.

“Very _Matrix_ – I like.”

He shrugged and grinned as he lit a cigar. “Any woman taller than me looks good in leather.”

“I’m as tall as Jean. We’d weigh about the same, too. If you change your mind...”

“Never mind tha seventy extra pounds o’ lead in yer butt, pun’kin.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, ‘Weapon X’?”

He just smiled. “Ya change yer mind, ya know where I hang my hat. Between tha two o’ us, we’d drive Chuck int’ a nuthouse in a week. Could be fun.”

“Would be – but I can’t.” Rooke hugged him close, tucking her chin over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything, Wolvie.”

“Anytime. What are ya plannin’ on doin’ now?” He pulled back to look up at her.

“Something daring, adventurous, and a little insane.”

“That’s my girl.” Then he eyed her with suspicion. “Not tryin’ fer Mags again, I hope? Hell, I put ‘im in a wheelchair in Genosha not long ago. With any luck, he’s still in it but make no mistake – tha man can still paste ya. That’s just one o’ tha drawbacks t’ bein’ stuffed full o’ metal.”

“A wheelchair? Way to steal my thunder but I guess I could call it an all-too-fair advantage – a ‘glass half full’ sort of thing. No, I’m not making a play for him again – not just yet. There’s a tougher nut I need to crack first.”

“Loverboy?” he asked with a sigh. When she nodded, he added, “Well, it’s yer life. Just remember ya deserve better’n table scraps, pun’kin. Don’t ever let any man make ya ‘is dog – or ‘is punchin’ bag. Just cuz we heal fast don’t mean it can’t still hurt on tha inside, right?”

“Right.”

“Try t’ lay off puttin’ a sex whammy on tha unwillin’ while yer at it, huh? That shit ain’t tha way t’ make friends o’ any stripe. Tellin’ ya this t’ spare ya pain an’ trouble, got it?”

“I got it.” She hugged him again impulsively. “I love you, Uncle Logan – and I’m just starting to figure out what that really means.”

“Then tha fight’s half won, darlin’.”

He walked away to the red Harley in the motel parking lot. It roared to life, the racket of the motor splitting the morning. Tossing her a salute as he turned into the road, he drove away, heading for home. He hadn’t gone far when she hailed him mentally, having discovered the new wallet in the pocket of her coat, with $500 tucked inside it, just in case.

_You are the best, Wolvie. Thank you._

Not bothering to respond, he left her far behind him, satisfied for once that he’d been able to help her get back onto her feet again. He knew she could handle herself – beyond hoping she’d contact him if she couldn’t, he’d leave her to her battles.

_Got my own t’ fight, after all. Don’t think I’m gonna win this one but no harm in wadin’ in there an’ givin’ it a shot. At least I gotta chance t’ work off some o’ tha more violent feelin’s on tha trip here – might be able t’ resist just stabbin’ Cyke on first sight._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last section of chapter ten is actually Wolverine’s point of view on a scene that takes place in my Doc Ock story, “Of Dreams and Dust” (it’s in chapter six of that tale). If Rooke intrigues you, I invite you to go find her story as she tries to carve out a place for herself at Doctor Octavius’s side. Wolverine will be making more cameo appearances in her story, as well, before it’s finished.
> 
> Also, I admit that I’m ignoring canon with regard to Magneto. In my fan fiction stories, he’s alive and well. I have no time to research his situation during my current timeline, or to completely rework my stories just because Marvel Comics likes to kill off Magneto almost as often as they do Jean Grey. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	11. No Way Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fantomex” is another product of the Weapon Plus Program, like Wolverine. The previous discussion Xavier refers to in this section happens in the New X-Men issue # 128, in which he attempted to help Jean understand what was happening with her expanding telekinetic senses. At that point, Xavier actually spoke to the Phoenix Force within Jean, but I don’t believe he told her about that, as they were interrupted by the aforementioned arrival of Fantomex. Xorn is a healer and teacher among the X-Men at this time. He got Nano-Sentinels (microscopic machines) from the villain Cassandra Nova and used them to make Xavier able to walk. Obviously, the last section and the one that follows overlap a tad. - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

Forty-eight years of livin’  
an angel in disguise  
Forty-eight years of lovin’  
smilin’ with my eyes  
Forty-eight years of memories  
neatly tucked away  
When daylight dies, I hear them rise  
and dance upon their grave

What’s that sound  
comin’ from the dresser on a night as black as pitch?  
What’s that sound  
comin’ from the bureau, do I dare turn on the switch?  
Them bones, them bones, them dry bones  
all bleached and deathly white  
I’ve got skeletons in my closet and  
they’re rattlin’ tonight

~ Skeletons in My Closet (The Fat Man and Team Fat)

*****************************************************************

Jean stood at an upstairs window and watched as the red Harley Davidson roared up to the circular drive in front of the Xavier Institute. A door burst open behind her and Jubilee bounded into the upstairs hallway.

“Wolvie’s back!” Hugging Jean impulsively, Jubilee grinned at her and raced down the stairs to greet him. “Isn’t that super cool?” the young mutant shouted back up to her.

Jean held herself and watched Logan dismount the motorcycle. Her thoughts brushed his mind, almost compulsively, before she severed the instinctual connection. Below, she saw him look up, finding her easily. A wash of emotions, thoughts, memories, and fears sluiced through her as she met his gaze. Then she lowered her head and turned away from the glass.

~ ~ ~

It had been almost a week since his return and Jean had avoided Logan entirely. He had kept his distance, too, until the demands of the school forced them to speak to each other. What she had sensed in him then, and in herself, had to be addressed – even if she dreaded how it might play out.

Standing in the control and observation booth, she looked down into the Danger Room session he was running with the latest combat class of the Xavier Institute. The students struggled to keep up with their teacher in an illusory Savage Land full of dinosaurs and other deadly hunters.

She fell to watching Logan’s muscles move under the leather. His grace and speed, belying his bulk, were mesmerizing. Memories pulled her away from the class, her body abruptly aching with need. Shaking her head to focus, she forced herself to stop following the teacher and pinpointed the students instead. The training facility wasn’t called the Danger Room as a joke, after all.

One young mutant, Terry, paused for breath, hands on his knees and pointed out to his friend Jason, “I don’t know why we’re watching out for the monsters – Mr. Logan is a lot scarier.”

Jason grinned, panting. “From what I’ve heard about him, we’re just lucky he’s on our side.”

Their teacher appeared from the brush right over them, frightening them both out of their wits when he spoke.

“Breathers are fer tha dead. Get movin’ or get eaten. Now.”

Scrambling to obey him, they fled to rejoin the others.

Jean began programming the next session before the class was over. Logan hadn’t left the room yet and once his students filed out of it, exhausted, Jean set the new program on automatic and went to the booth’s elevator to enter the Danger Room.

Meeting Logan face to face before he could exit through the main door, she closed and secured it with her telekinesis.

“Class is over, Red.” He hooked his thumbs in the belt of his black leather uniform pants, his mouth pulling into a frown.

“We have to talk. Turn around.”

“Ya had plenty o’ chances since I got back from Chicago, Jean. Left my mind an’ my door unlocked tha whole time since I saw ya last. Seems ya can visit my room, but not while I’m in it. Why now?”

“Just look.”

He turned his head, saw what she’d done and growled. With a loud ~snikt~, the claws on one hand popped as the fingers fisted and a surprising anger leaked from his mind.

“What tha hell are ya doin’, Jean?”

The Savage Land had melted away to become the vast and frozen landscape of their last unwanted adventure. In the distance, through the swirling snow, the black mountain and its warren of caverns waited. A moment later, the unmistakable howl of an unseen bear-dog sounded.

“After my unofficial debriefing with Charles, I described this to him in detail. He thought it would make an excellent training program, for students and team members alike.” Watching his black hair blow in the wind, she added in a whisper, “I didn’t tell him anything about us; I kept it all locked away – deep.”

“Sure o’ that, are ya? Might surprise ya what Chuck can ferret out, or figure out by seein’ there’s pieces o’ a mind puzzle missin’.” Facing her again, he glared at her. “Why show it t’ me? I don’t need it, already worked out how t’ beat it – by committin’ murder. Think Chuck wants tha X-babies learnin’ that?”

“They can beat it by finding the body of the mutant that created the monsters, finding and helping him.”

“Ya programmed an edited version? Guess what – I don’t care. Outta my way, I got things t’ do.”

“Logan, please ... please talk with me. There’s things – we have to sort things out between us.”

“Figured there wasn’t nothin’ between us. Ya can’t look at me, Jeannie, haven’t in days – sends a message, real clear. Been tryin’ since t’ stay outta yer way, but I can’t if ya won’t get outta mine.”

“I don’t want you out of my way.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Logan, I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? I am. When I got home and you weren’t here, I needed you to be here. I’ve been so worried, about myself, what may be happening to me. I couldn’t turn to Scott – I still can’t understand why he’s...” Catching the smoldering anger in her friend, his growl dropping lower, she quickly changed the subject. “I had no one to turn to, and it – it made me angry. You weren’t here...”

“Ya got Stormy an’ Chuck. Since when did ya ever come t’ me fer a heartfelt chat an’ a hair-braidin’ session?”

“Ororo can’t help with this. She’s never been terrified of being taken over by a primal force inside her – a force that could destroy the world.” Jean took a deep breath, her eyes shifting away from his intense scrutiny. “I’m ... afraid ... to talk to Charles about it.”

“Well, he’s got tha cred, fer Onslaught.”

“So do you.”

“I was busy.”

“With what? Brawling and moping? Damn it, Logan, talk to me!”

He snarled, the claws between them glinting in the light of sun on snow. “Gotta friend in Chicago: Rooke. Ya remember ‘er, don’t ya? Ya never liked ‘er. Well, I do. Found ‘er in a bad way an’ helped ‘er out. Ain’t that what we do? Didn’t get near ‘nuff time t’ mope an’ only got in one damn decent brawl on tha road, which means I’m probly overdue fer my next one, so get – outta – my – face!”

Jean didn’t give herself time to think as his anger charged her fear into something primal. She grabbed his wrist, pushed the claws out of the way and locked her lips over his, swallowing his vicious growl.

His shock was sharp in his mind, but the passion he’d been attempting to strangle down deep erupted as he crushed her to his body. Jean caught the thought of what he intended to do and didn’t care.

Pivoting his weight, he turned them both and brought them down into the snow, landing hard on his palm and knees, his arm holding her protectively around her waist. She moved her head to kiss him again, but he leaned back and flipped her onto her stomach. The claws sliced through her belt, and were about to open her leather pants.

“Wait! Let me –” She lifted her hips and fumbled with the zipper, barely getting it open before his fingers slid in at the back, grabbed, and yanked.

She never heard him open his pants. The zipper tab of his open jacket struck her arm, and then his weight came down, the pressure bruising her knees. His legs forced hers open before she had a chance to move for him. Gasping as tears came to her eyes, Jean felt his hand, claws still out, press onto the back of her skull. His fingers gripped her hair, pulling it almost painfully.

Her cheek was pressed into the snow a moment before his heavy cock pushed inside her body.

It was all grunts and huffs of breath, his thrusts rough and fast, almost as it had been when the beast inside him had first taken her.

Jean tried to shift beneath him, thrilling at the growl that came swiftly to her ear, his hot breath moving her hair. “I want,” she panted, struggling to breathe, to tell him. “The teeth – I want –”

His open mouth touched the back of her neck through her tangling hair, his fingers, still fisted in it, lifting most of the red mass out of the way. His fangs gripped the nape of her neck and when they bit into her flesh, she came instantly.

The thrusts that threatened to split her became more harsh, almost hurting her. His fangs and fingers released her as he reared back, the respite from the pressure of his weight finally allowing her to breathe.

Logan’s strangled voice half groaned, half roared, and she came a second time when his seed spilled into her tense and trembling body.

Collapsing into the snow, her breathing ragged, she tasted the ice on her freezing lips. Moaning when his body left hers, she whispered his name, closing her eyes.

Sounds intruded, a clink of metal, a zipper, and then, ~snakt~. “Better get it t’gether, Jeannie.” His voice was gruff and his mind was in a tumult. “I gotta go t’ work.”

“Work?” She rolled over and sat up, feeling dizzy, and ignored the cold that struck her bare skin.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. His jacket was still open, the white undershirt grimy from the class he’d finished before. His fingers set his belt back in place, straightening the X on the buckle.

“Next class’ll be linin’ up already; hope ya locked that door.”

Jean raised her arm, offering her hand. He helped her up, but stepped back. Advancing, she grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled. She couldn’t have moved him, but he allowed her to bring him close, allowed her to kiss him.

His hands moved to her thighs, gripped her pants and yanked them back up. The zip was loud in her ears. He had said something, hadn’t he?

“Yes, I locked it – the booth, too.”

“Yer belt’s a goner.” He drew the halves of it out of her pant loops and rolled them into a coil. Shoving the leather into one of her jacket pockets, he studied her face. “Gonna explain what tha hell that was later?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Prefer t’ know where I stand, Red.”

“Meet me in the maze tonight and I’ll try to figure that out before I get there.”

“When?”

“Midnight.” She let go of his jacket and walked around him to the door. “I’ll be in the booth to run this one. Charles wanted me to work out any bugs and correct them as we go. Your next class can be the guinea pigs.”

“Feelin’ like one myself, darlin’.” His back was stiff, his thoughts guarded, wary.

Jean sighed. “I’ll see you tonight, Logan – we can talk then.” She unsealed the door and opened it. A line of young faces, some eager and others scared, followed her inside as she returned to the elevator that lead to the control booth. “Mr. Logan is ready for you,” she told them over her shoulder. “We’re working on a new program, so pay attention to his instructions.”

Back in the booth, her fingers trembled slightly on the controls. It was difficult to concentrate on either the class or the program as she watched Logan run the students through a pack of bear-dogs. His brutality against the monsters was a bit over-the-top for the age of his students, but the censure died in her thoughts before she sent it out to the teacher.

One hand drifted to the crotch of her leather pants as she sat in the chair. Her panties were soaked, her body a little sore. Reaching for one of the controls on the board in front of her, the hard roll of her ruined belt in her pocket pressed into her side.

 _Welcome to the slippery slope,_  she told herself, frowning as Logan’s ferocity in the room below heated her blood all over again.

~ ~ ~

The hedge maze was dark, the slender new moon unable to light it. Jean sat on a stone bench and shivered in her thin coat and wool dress, feeling goose bumps rise on her bare legs.

Hands in her pockets, one foot in its short, fur-lined boot moved to bend some of the grass blades in front of her. Her hair was loose in the light chilled breeze, taking on the scent of the roses all around her.

Her thoughts lingered on Logan’s body and what it had done to hers – but the thoughts were the only thing that warmed her.

“Where are you?” she whispered. “You’re late and I’m cold.”

She startled when a shadow, taken for a rose bush in front of her, moved. He had been crouched there before she’d arrived and came up to her in an animalistic gait without standing up. Going down on his knees before her, barefoot and dressed only in his leather pants, Logan touched her knees, his palms sliding the dress up her thighs.

Her hands closed on his wrists and he stopped the movement. The crystal blue of his eyes stared up at her, flashing like gems as they drew the meager moonlight into them.

“You frightened me,” she said, disturbed that he had been so close and she hadn’t even felt the presence of a sentient mind near her.

“Been waitin’,” he murmured, “since dark. Knew it would be this spot – can’t see it from any window.” He cocked his head at her, one eyebrow arching. “No one can see what ya want here.”

“I want to talk.”

“No ya don’t.” His hands moved again, ignoring her resistance. Bunching the dress to her hips, he breathed in deeply. “Goin’ commando, Red? Kinky.” He started to bend his head down, but she put her hand under his chin.

“Logan, wait.”

“Scent don’t say ‘wait’,” he answered, a low growl rumbling in his throat under the words.

“So you’re going to start acting like Sabretooth now? Why not call me a ‘frail’ and get right to it, rip my clothes off?”

The growl came louder, but he leaned back on his heels, his hands hanging between his thighs, over the bulge that strained in his pants.

“Ain’t never forced a woman like that sick bastard – not without ‘er askin’ me t’ an’ thankin’ me in tha mornin’, anyhow – or did ya forget who started this shit?”

“You wanted to know where you stood. I know I can’t solve my problems by chatting about them with you – you were right, I should discuss it with Charles. I will, soon, but I found out today in the Danger Room how you can help. I want the original offer and I want it kept secret in a house full of telepaths, and around a surly husband. Can you handle that?”

“Got somethin’ fer me t’ sign, or can I write it with my tongue?”

“Why are you still so angry with me?”

“Not at ya, darlin’, at tha clusterfuck sitch. Spent years wantin’ ya, spent way too damn li’l time havin’ ya. Minute we got out from under Hook’s roof, ya did exactly what I feared ya would an’ asked ya not t’ do: shuttin’ me out, pushin’ me away – same shit Slim’s been doin’ t’ ya, that ya say is so hurtful, by tha by. Then ya put tha come-hither whammy on me t’day in tha fuckin’ Danger Room.”

“I didn’t force you to –”

“Yer scent did. Drove me near outta my skin – but ya ain’t like ya were, Jeannie. Ya were worried ‘bout usin’ me before, out at tha stream. What yer askin’ fer now, that’s exactly what yer gonna do. Use me.”

“If you’re willing, how does that make me the bad guy?”

“Oh, willin’ ain’t a prob, trust me. My ‘willin’’ is startin’ t’ cramp. I love ya, Jeannie, an’ ya don’t love me; ya just wanna ride me dry t’ ease tha white noise in yer brain. I can give ya my body fer that, but don’t expect my heart t’ come with it.”

“So I can have you angry and crass, but not like you were in the cave; forget tenderness, and screw romance, is that it?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lips stretching into a cruel smirk. “Yer tha one arguin’ in tha bushes missin’ panties with yer dress hiked up, not me – figured crass was tha goal.”

The slap echoed, his pale cheekbone going scarlet. She drew her hands up to her mouth and stared back into his glaring eyes. Afraid of his anger, shocked at what she’d done, she froze. Yet the air was charged with heat, from both of them.

He felt his face where she’d struck him for a moment, and then reached for her, opening her thighs and pulling her hips forward on the bench.

His head darted down and her fists struck his back as his hands grabbed her, squeezing her ass through the bunched wool dress. His mouth claimed her, the unbelievably strong tongue slapping at her folds, the lips sucking at the small hidden nub.

Crying out, Jean’s hands slid down the bunched muscles on his broad back, her French manicure cutting into his skin. “Yes, yes, oh God, Logan...” His mouth brought her to climax in seconds, his lips and tongue sucking and lapping at the slick juices from her body.

In one smooth movement, he plucked her off of the bench and twisted, flattening her under him in the grass and leaves. When he lifted his hips, she opened her legs to him and fumbled with his belt and zipper with shaking fingers.

Unable to breathe until he entered her, she wrapped her legs around his hips as his tireless strength worked her into a sweat. She slipped her fingers into his wild black hair, grabbing some of it in bunches and pulling on it lightly as her heat gathered inside once more.

His thrusting seemed both endless and over far too fast, and she came again at the sight of him biting his muscled forearm to keep silent when it ended. He’d drawn blood, but the bite healed before it could well or drip. To her shock, he licked it away from the abruptly unbroken skin.

Panting, he stayed on his knees and watched her hands stroke the hard muscles of his heaving abdomen. The look on his face was unreadable, but his mind was crowded with confusion, passion, and hurt.

“I am so sorry, Logan; I don’t deserve you, but I need you – I need you so much.”

“Oddest post-coital bed talk I ever heard, Red.” He tried to smile and almost succeeded. “Grass talk, I guess – an’ really not tha oddest I ever heard, tell ya tha truth.” His attempt at humor, and how it contradicted the whirl of thoughts in his mind, only made her cry. “Aw, shit, Jeannie, don’t.”

He withdrew, moved to one side and picked her up. Holding her in his lap, he let her cry on his shoulder and chest. One hand was at her back, the other arranging her dress back down over her thighs.

“I hate myself a little right now,” she muttered against his hairy chest.

“Yer just mixed up, darlin’. Hush, now.” Finished with her dress, that hand lifted and cradled her head, her long hair blowing slowly around them both.

“I can’t believe I hit you.”

“Sorta asked fer it, didn’t I?”

“You were angry with me, you still are. Be angry.”

“Won’t work – can’t do much when ya cry, never could.”

“Don’t tough guys call it a ‘woman’s blackmail’?”

“Sabretooth might, but we ain’t as alike as ya think. Then again, he likes it when they cry – turns ‘im on fer tha worse.”

Jean lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I am so sorry I said that crack about him – you ... you’re...”

“I know, Jean darlin’, I know – don’t fret ‘bout it.”

She leaned into him, asking silently, but unable to kiss him; she didn’t feel she had the right. With a soft smile, his lips pressed to hers. His kiss was gentle as it moved from mouth, to cheeks, to eyelids, ending at her forehead.

Leaning his head down to touch it to hers, he let a long held breath go in a sigh. They sat like that in the growing chill until she shuddered.

“Hop up, Jeannie; gotta get ya inside before ya catch yer death.”

He helped her to stand, his hands brushing leaves from her hair and clothes. She stood still, watching him as the weak moonlight and deep shadows played over his body and face. His mind was more open to her than it had been since the caverns in the snow, though his expression and thoughts were bittersweet.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?” He’d dropped his gaze to shove himself back into his pants, fastening them and the belt back together.

“You never gave me an answer – not really.”

He took her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing her chilled palms. “Just say tha word, Jeannie, or think it, an’ I’ll come runnin’ –”

“Oh, thank heavens, yes. I couldn’t bear to fight with you anymore, and I –”

“Fer as long as I can stand it,” he interrupted. She couldn’t speak after that and he continued in a whisper, “Sooner or later, things’ll smooth over between ya an’ Slim. Even before they do, I might find I can’t stand tha sneakin’ ‘round, or tha pretendin’ we don’t ... do things t’ each other. I’ll try, Jeannie, but that’s all I’m willin’ t’ promise ya. Take it or leave it.”

Swallowing fresh tears, she nodded, bowing her head. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always preferred it.”

“I wish I could love you. I really do.” She drew her breath in sharply when she felt his mixed up thoughts and emotions shatter under the weight of frustration, anger, and hurt. “Logan, I ... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like...”

Sighing, he turned away. Still holding one of her hands, his heavy shoulders slumped, he led her out of the rose garden and through the maze. “Ya wish ya could, Jeannie? I wish I didn’t.”

*****************************************************************

Logan lay in his bed in the darkened room and stared at the photo of Mariko on the Japanese altar. He’d left the bathroom light on after the shower and the white smoke of the incense twined with the steam as the scent of cherry blossoms tried to mask the lingering perfume of Jean’s body on his skin.

The house was mostly quiet around him, except for the faint sound of a haunting music somewhere below and down the hall from his room. When it ended and then began again, his lips twitched into a smile.

 _Jubilee_ _– only person ‘round up at this hour, only one with a habit o’ hittin’ repeat an_ _’ forgettin’_ _‘bout it, too._

Searching for something else to latch his thoughts onto, he focused on it, his hyper-senses picking out the words and melody easily. Soon enough, he regretted it.

And you, you bring me to my knees, again  
All the times that I could beg you please, in vain  
All the times that I felt insecure, for you

And I leave my burdens at the door  
I’m on the outside  
I’m looking in  
I can see through you  
See your true colors  
‘Cause inside you’re ugly  
You’re ugly like me  
I can see through you  
See to the real you

Restless and unable to sleep, he rose and pulled on a pair of black jogging pants. Leaving the cone of incense to burn in its stone bowl, he left his room to follow the music.

Down the stairs and out of the men’s dormitory wing, he headed into the opposite wing on the other side of the mansion. His young friend’s bedroom door was closed, but the light was on under it. Reluctant to disturb her, he leaned his forehead on the wood, his palms flat against it, near the doorknob. The song played on, tearing at his wounded soul.

All the times that I felt like this won’t end  
it’s for you  
And I taste what I could never have  
It was from you  
All the times that I’ve cried  
My intentions full of pride  
But I waste more time than anyone

I’m on the outside  
I’m looking in  
I can see through you  
See your true colors  
‘Cause inside you’re ugly  
You’re ugly like me  
I can see through you  
See to the real you

 _Jeannie’s not ugly, she’s th_ _a most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen breathin’ in a_ _whil_ _e – but somethin’s wrong with_ _‘er, too, an_ _’ it ain’t hard t_ _’ see. That why she thought I could relate? Calm_ _‘er fears? Th_ _a beast in me can’t hold a candle t_ _’ th_ _a fire in_ _‘er soul. I can calm_ _‘er body, but that’s all. Oh, Jean darlin’ – why am I doin’ this? Why do I let ya cut me where it won’t ever heal?_

All the times that I’ve cried  
All that’s wasted, it’s all inside  
And I feel all this pain  
Stuffed it down, it’s back again  
And I lie here in bed, all alone  
I can’t mend  
But I feel tomorrow will be okay

But I’m on the outside  
I’m looking in  
I can see through you  
See your true colors  
‘Cause inside you’re ugly  
You’re ugly like me  
I can see through you  
See to the real you 

He sighed when the song was switched off, and then startled when the young mutant’s footsteps approached the door. Either frozen in place or just unwilling to run, he frightened her when she opened the door and found him there.

“Wolvie? What are you doing?” Squinting at him, her expression changed from surprise to concern. “Are you okay? Get in here, huh? Tell me about it.”

Logan let her pull him inside the room, and then quickly regretted it. She was barely dressed and the pajamas weren’t those of a kid anymore. “Wait, Jubilation, this ain’t a good idea...”

“What, why? Oh! Sorry, hey, look, a bathrobe! Bet I remember what it’s for.” Dropping his wrist, she picked up the thick bright yellow garment from her bed and pulled it on. “My bad. You know, we’ve been through a lot, Wolvie, and with your habit of ending up naked due to monster claws, meditation, torture, the Reavers, what have you, should you really worry about catching me in my PJs?”

“Skimpy PJs,” he corrected. “When tha hell did ya grow up so much, anyway?”

“Managed most of it while you were out.” She came forward and took his wrist again, leading him over to sit on the edge of her bed. “I don’t bite – not anymore anyway, and I’m not crushing on you these days, so you’re safe. What’s bugging you? Oh, crud, was the music too loud?”

“Crushin’ on me?” he asked, bemused by her rapid-fire chatter. He’d been out of practice at listening to her prattle on at mach two.

“Oh, yeah, you know – I used to dig you, that’s why I was a be-yatch to some of your, ahem, lady friends, during some of our early travels. Now I’m cured, so you’re safe from my waning teenage BS.”

“Uh, good.”

“Hey, now, ‘teen crush’ is harder to beat than the Legacy Virus, so I think I deserve some props. So, um, I turned it off.”

“Turned what off?”

“The song.”

“Oh, no worries, darlin’, no ears but mine coulda picked it up. Who was it?”

“A band called Staind. The song is  _Outside_  – had it on the ‘puter.”

Jubilee gestured to a laptop on her desk. It was displaying a slideshow of photos, things she had taken with her camera around the school. An image of Jean flashed by, smiling with Scott Summers at her side. He glanced away from it quickly to look back at her.

“So, tough guy, once more with feeling – what’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, sorta followed yer tune down here – not sure why.”

“Duh. You need a buddy, some company, huh? I’m your gal. Want to talk about it? Or, I know, strong silent type, we could do something else. I was about to go for a late night snack. You game?”

“So why are ya up this late, wearin’ out an angst-fest tune?”

“Oh, like, everything and nothing; at my age, the hormones’ll still kill you, you know? Doesn’t stop when the pigtails come down.”

“Ya worried ‘bout this silly ‘Open Day’ o’ Chuck’s comin’ up?”

She looked surprised. “No, I’m ... all for...” Sighing at his raised eyebrow, she gave up. “Yeah, fine, quit with the third degree. I don’t care about it, but a lot of the others do and they’re pretty vocal on the subject. They get wound up, and then I get tired of all the tension.”

“Yeah, tension’s a crippler,” he answered, his voice bitter. “Got ‘nuff t’ deal with myself, so I feel yer pain, Jubes.” She had reached out to touch his shoulder, but he stood to avoid it. “I should go; whether or not ya plan t’ get tha sleep ya need, ya don’t need me layin’ my shit on ya. Can’t talk ‘bout it, anyway.”

“You never can and never do; I’ve gotten used to it. Wolvie, listen – hang out with me a bit tomorrow, huh? No talking required. Take in a cartoon or six, see how many different kinds of cereal we can mix before it tastes weird – we can make it up as we go.”

Logan studied her closely for the first time in a long time. She’d been thirteen when they met, hadn’t she? She had saved his life and risked hers caring for him after he tore his bleeding body off of the cyborg Donald Pierce’s cross in the Australian Outback. She’d saved him more than once since the Reavers crucified him, and then she had traveled the world with him, fighting at his side. In recent years, when she had joined Emma’s former school and the junior team there, they’d drifted apart. She had grown up – but maybe he hadn’t.

“I’d like that, darlin’. Might not go fer tha cereal, but somethin’.”

“Excellent.” She rose and came up to hug him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

For a moment, he allowed himself the simple comfort she offered, holding her close. “Guess I gotta quit callin’ ya a kid, now, huh? Yer nearly taller than me.”

“That’s not a challenge, Wolvie.” Grinning, she winked at him and kissed his scruffy cheek. “Okay, out, before you melt from all of this sappy junk, right?”

Smiling, he released her and moved to the door. “Right.” Opening it and standing in the doorway, he glanced back at her. “Thanks, Jubilation.”

“For what?”

“Fer always bein’ there fer me – ‘specially since I ain’t always been ‘round fer ya.”

“Aw, I love you, Wolvie – and I’m not the only one, you know.”

Turning away so she wouldn’t see the bitterness in his face, he whispered, “G’night, darlin’ … sleep tight.”

Shutting the door silently, he retreated back toward his own room. In the opposite direction, Jean’s scent lingered in the hall, trailing down to the door of the suite she shared with her husband.

Turning his back to it, he let the perfume of cherry blossoms lead him away.

~ ~ ~

Saturday morning cartoons buzzed and zinged on the vast plasma screen in the home theater. Logan was the only adult in a room strewn with children and teens. Jubilee, still tired from her late night, had stretched out on one of the tiered couches beside him in her hi-top sneakers, jeans, and Pikachu t-shirt and was using his lap for a pillow. Without thinking about it, he had begun toying with her short-cropped black hair – an old habit.

When Bugs and Daffy quit, the vivacious Chinese girl popped up, apparently tapping into a second wind.

“Okay, so it’s long been established that you won’t go for blading around the mansion. What do you want to do? We could go to town on your Harley, catch a movie, or play a game or something? Oh, dude, you’d be killer at Laser Tag! I wish we had a paintball place.”

Logan’s head was turned by an alluring scent. It was perfume and soap, soft skin, and a whiff of animal lust.

Jean leaned in the doorway of the room and need burned deep in her emerald eyes as they met his. She wore a thick sweater over a long dress and he caught the slight smirk on her lips as she read his thoughts. He almost rose and made a fumbled excuse to Jubilee, but then another scent came up behind her.

“Professor Xavier’s ready for you, Jean,” Scott said. “I’d like to sit in with you ... help if I can?”

Her gaze locked onto Logan’s, lingered, and then shifted away. Turning, she sighed. “I need to do this alone.”

Logan looked back at the screen, his hands curling into fists as they left the doorway.

“Uh, earth to Wolvie? The events director of the Lido Deck is waiting, dude.”

“Think I’d rather go bladin’, darlin’ – in tha Danger Room. Ya game?”

He ignored the others around them. They’d been listening since she first starting making suggestions, most of them probably shocked that she was brave enough to hang out with the Professor of Combat.

“Um, shoor – as a team, I hope?”

“Natch.”

“You got it. Oops, let me finish my milk.” She picked up the cereal bowl and drank the rest of the pink and blue sugary milk down in one gulp. “Okay, let’s go mess up some bots!”

Logan followed her to his classroom, but he didn’t skip. He was aware that on any other morning, her enthusiasm would have amused him, so he tried to pull his mood up by its bootstraps.

 _This is th_ _a first day o’ th_ _a rest o’ yer hitch in Hell, bub – better get used t_ _’ th_ _a fuckin’ heat_ _._

*****************************************************************

Jean entered Professor Xavier’s office, a firm block on certain parts of her mind. She knew her old friend and teacher felt it, but she took a seat opposite him and gave him her attention without acknowledging it.

The professor sat in his chair calmly, but his concern for her radiated from his thoughts. “I am glad you came to speak with me, Jean. You’ve been experiencing – difficulties – for some time now, have you not? Is it worse than it was when we last spoke, before Fantomex dropped in on us?”

“Yes. I feel the Phoenix Force within me like a restless tide these days, Charles. Whenever I have to use my powers to excess, I feel it trying to manifest and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control it if it does.”

“In this frozen world Hellena created, you said you felt it manifest when she tried to possess you. This was after an exertion of your powers as well?”

“I was trying to expel her from my mind with my telepathy, but it wasn’t working. I pushed it hard, and then the Phoenix Force burned her out.”

“There were no aftereffects?”

“No, it left me as soon as it freed me.”

“Jean, I’m sensing a wall...”

Looking away from him, she stared at her pale fingers as they gripped the arms of the chair. “For just a few seconds after, it ... tried to influence my personality. It was … violent, like it wanted to... That could have been Hellena, though, she was pushing everyone into a feral state. It didn’t affect me the same as the others, but it did change me. I was … different, for a time. Nothing like Logan, though.”

“His feral nature has little difficulty surfacing in such an environment as it is, even without a telepathic illusionist’s assistance. Even in the Danger Room, it is a challenge for him to keep his – temper – in check.”

Jean’s mind drifted, the professor’s words inspiring a probe to seek out Logan, as Charles had just done. In the control booth of the Danger Room, Logan was setting up a program for a practice session with Jubilee.

Pulling her focus back to Charles, she murmured, “He handled it better than I did – all of it.”

“His experience is vast and whether or not his mind remembers all of it, his cells do, on some level. Logan is more in tune with his instincts, as well – and not as afraid of the beast within as he might need to be.”

“Need to be, Charles?”

“A topic for another time.”

“So ... any luck convincing Scott that I’m not turning evil?”

“Scott has been very distracted lately – much like yourself.”

“Yes, well, things haven’t been the same since Apocalypse messed with his head.”

“This incident with Hellena, forgive me, but I’m trying to understand. Your telepathy wasn’t effective in stopping her assault, therefore, I believe it may have been more akin to a real possession and not just an invasion of your mind alone. Logan said you spoke to him in Hellena’s voice.”

“You asked him about it?”

“Of course. Standard mission debriefing, especially since you both went missing, technically.”

“Yes, certainly. What did he... Did he notice anything else about what happened?”

“That she tried to access and use your powers against him, with limited success. He said she actually picked up a bone club to swing at him when your powers would not be usurped. However, he was his usual laconic self about the mission as a whole.”

“You know how he is – everything in black and white, and no point in dwelling on anything past the moment at hand.”

“Interesting.”

“What is, Charles?”

“During our debriefing, I actually thought he might have been blocking me – as you are now.”

“He’s a very private man. I’ve just been distracted, as you pointed out. Things aren’t easy right now ... with Scott.”

“That is true, but in debriefing talks, he is normally quite open and candid mentally. While I prefer to have him explain things, to have a sense of how he perceives them, he’s told me on more than one occasion that he’d rather I just read his mind so that he can go on to other pursuits.”

“I’m sure you’re more of an authority on Logan’s mind than I.”

She met his gaze and maintained her calm poise, morphing the blocks in her mind into the form of a snowy vast emptiness. The wind blew through her thoughts, covering up what she could let no one see under the piling frost. It was a trick Emma had taught her, in one of her rare moments of civility. It wasn’t strictly white-hat in nature, but it served her need.

“This frozen world intrigues you.”

“I just can’t keep from thinking about Hellena. If only the poor thing would have let us help... Logan was very upset by what happened to her. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I know it’s true. I think that’s why he went to Chicago … being too late to help one young mutant, he hoped to save another one.” Jean sighed. “Can we finish this tomorrow?”

“Jean, I really think it’s best to –”

“I think I could use a little fresh air – and a chance to put the world on hold for a while. I’m sorry, Charles, but I feel ... so exhausted. You know, Scott used to be my refuge, my comfort. Now, with these problems between us … I feel like I – can’t find rest.”

When she rose, he stood and took her hands in his. For a moment, Jean felt a shimmer of joy to see him able to walk again. Xorn’s use of the remaining Nano-Sentinels to restore his spine and legs had been a godsend. Then the weight of having to hide things from him stole her joy away.

“You know you can tell me anything – you used to.”

“I know, but some secrets aren’t mine to tell.”

“That’s what Logan said.”

“What?”

The professor’s smile was sad. “He told me very little about Hellena, Reece, or anything else. I felt that he was concealing something ... troubling. When I asked about it, he essentially told me it wasn’t his business or mine to know – though he said it more … colorfully.”

“Well, you can dress up a wolverine, but you can’t make him G-rated. I’m just grateful that he keeps the swearing to a minimum in the junior classes. I doubt if there is anything to worry about there, beyond him feeling guilt for things he couldn’t help. I will try to spend some effort assisting him in seeing that, but … after I rest and relax a little.”

“Jean, I have to know – are you being truthful with me now about these manifestations of the Phoenix?”

“Yes, I am, as far as I can understand the problem myself. As for the rest – a woman’s mind must be her own sometimes. My problems with my husband are, after all, my problems.” Giving his fingers a gentle squeeze, she released his hands and turned away. Opening the office door, she paused without looking back. “Am I about to turn evil, Charles?”

“I believe the Phoenix Force within you has become unstable lately. It is possible that your powers are transforming to a higher Phoenix potential, as evidenced by the fact that they are growing erratic, not just growing stronger. Therefore, it follows that it is unwise for you to be upset or stressed at this time.”

“Great. What’s to worry about? Our lives never produce upset or stress.” Head held high, she left the office and closed the door behind her.

Jean walked out of the mansion in her fur-lined boots, dress and sweater. It wasn’t too chilly in the sun. Without speaking to anyone, she walked into the woods closest to the house. Finding Logan’s stream and the outcropping of rock that hung over it, she walked out to sit down on the rock.

“Where are you now?” A probe answered the question. He was in the middle of the Danger Room session with Jubilee. When she saw what he had programmed for them to fight, she stiffened with shock. “Oh, Logan ... I can’t ever make it right, can I? How can I do this to you, to myself? Worse, how do I stop? I’m so afraid ... so afraid that I can’t make myself stop.”

Stretching out on her side on the hard and gritty stone, she pillowed her head on her arms, her knees drawing up into a fetal curl. When the tears came, they quickly became sobs that made her muscles ache.

Below her, the water sluiced past and away, a silent and indifferent witness.

*****************************************************************

On the way down the hall, Logan and Jubilee passed the newsroom, so nicknamed because the plasma screen in the small lounge was usually tuned to CNN. It was the same room he’d carried Jean out of after helping her get plastered at the Auger Inn.

A voice called out as they went by. “Logan, look at this!”

 _Scott. It’s official_ _– I am in Hell._ “What, Slim?”

“You were just in Chicago, did you know he was?”

“Who?” Jubilee asked. “Hey, he’s supposed to be dead!”

Logan glared at Scott and then stared up at the television in surprise. Amateur footage, probably via cell phone, had caught the unmistakable image of Spidey’s favorite nuclear physicist gone mad, Doctor Octopus. It was night and raining, and the Doc was racing down a busy street in Chicago, tossing cars out of his way with the ugly metal tentacles as he went.

“Not a clue,” Logan answered Scott. “Wall-crawler said he drowned in tha East River with his homemade sun two years or so back.”

“Maybe it’s something we should look into?”

“He ain’t a mutant – outta our jurisdiction.”

“Come on, Wolvie, time’s a wasting!”

Scott glanced back at him, ignoring the bouncing impatient girl. “Yes, but what if –”

“Sorry, Slim, I gotta prior engagement – unscheduled Danger Room session. As ya can see, she might pop – I don’t wanna clean that up, do ya?”

The leader of the X-Men frowned. “No.”

Jubilee waited until Scott wasn’t looking, and then stuck her tongue out at him. “Let’s scoot, quick!” She hurried them down to the door of the school’s training facility. “Oh, hey, duh, I should fetch Storm or something, huh? I can’t work the booth junk.”

His smile was grim. “Don’t need nobody, Jubes. I can work tha booth junk.”

Inside the Danger Room’s control booth, Logan moved a chair out of his way and leaned over the controls to enter his operator code. Setting one palm down on the edge of the control board, he began flipping switches and dials, the toe of his worn cowboy boot tapping impatiently on the floor.

Behind him, Jubilee’s scent changed subtly as she watched his posture. Not sure if it disturbed him, yet disturbed that he wasn’t sure about it, he frowned. The bubble gum she fished out of her pocket reeked of sugar, but it didn’t mask the other scent.

“Gotta druther, darlin’?”

The gum popped. “Critter druther? Nope, but you always like the bots – to have something real to cream. D’know ... cyborgs? Sentinels? Clones?”

“Clones works fer me.” His palm lifted and he began tapping in a custom program that would perfectly suit his souring mood. Her gum popped again, three times in rapid-fire, as the scent beneath it came on stronger. “What tha hell are ya thinkin’ ‘bout back there?”

“Me?”

“No, John F. Kennedy.”

~Pop~. “Thinking that the Legacy Virus was really hard to cure.”

“Never mind Petey’s part in it.” The image of Colossus sacrificing his life to effect that cure hung in his mind for a moment, souring his mood more.

“Okay, awful thing to joke about, all around, my bad. Just trying to lighten the scowl. It really cuts down on your allure, you know.”

Hitting the autorun button, he turned to face her. “Don’t gotta way t’ say it nice, Jubes –”

“When did you ever sugarcoat anything for me? Look, I get it, you’re grumpy. News at eleven! It’s not a secret that me ogling short hairy mutants in tight jeans and a fetching punctured undershirt isn’t what will cheer you up. Heck, dude, I wouldn’t know what to do with you if it did cheer you up, so I’m fine with a ‘look, don’t touch’ policy. Here’s the thing: I traded in the pigtails for a healthy curiosity, so as far as I’m concerned, if you’re going to put it out there, I’m allowed to look at it. Got it?”

Surprised, all he could do was nod once.

“Great! Besides, you’re doing a valuable public service for us gals. Like, there’s a surplus of eye candy for the boys, with the White Queen, Jean, Storm, Rogue, and Psylocke running around. Male eye candy is in short supply.”

“What, nobody’s ‘crushin’ on’ Slim?”

“Hardly. He’s all orders and cranky scowls, worse than you. Angel and Gambit are cute, but you’re the only one in spray-on Levis who actually takes his shirt off around here. Why do you think we all want to go swimming when you head to the pool to catch some rays? Also, friendly tip: your habit of dragging on jogging pants and nothing else? If modesty is your goal, or you don’t want us to ogle, cut that out, because that thing has a mind of its own. Listen up, short, mean, and hairy: you can’t tell the girls – students or teachers – that I clued you in, or I’ll be in it deeeep. Just telling you because we’re pals. We clear, dude?”

“Clear.”

“Now let’s not waste the opportunity to let a few hapless bots relieve our tensions, ‘kay?” With that, she left the booth and walked over to the elevator, popping her gum once for each step.

Shaking his head, Logan followed. “Next thing, they’ll get ya leadin’ a team against tha Brotherhood o’ Evil Mutants or some shit. Not sure ya need much more schoolin’.”

“Hey, speaking of which, does this count as extra credit, teach?”

Logan smirked, feeling some of his irritation lift. “Why tha hell not. Gives me an air-tight alibi fer blowin’ off Slim, anyhow.”

“Sweet!”

They entered the Danger Room, and with the autorun program gearing up, the room sealed, lighting the “Session In Progress” sign over the doors.

For a breath, the vast space was empty, and then the Shi’ar hard-light holographic technology took over and turned it into an illusion of a blasted and burned future Earth. Logan and Jubilee stood in a former city’s central square, the skyscrapers twisted around it by a nuclear blast.

“Come with me if you want to live,” Jubilee quipped. “So whose clones are we scrapping? Holy crap, Wolvie! Issues much?”

Buffeted by a sulfurous wind created by Archangel’s metal wings, the X-Men stepped into the square with Cyclops in the lead. Alongside them, a feral Wolverine waited to spring, not far from an evil twin of Jubilee.

She watched them come and twitched at the loud ~snikt~ that sounded both before and beside her.

Crouching to face them, Logan growled. “Ya ain’t learned t’ beat ‘em all ‘til ya learn how t’ beat yerself, darlin’!”

“I might beat you myself, dude! Oh, boy. I should have had toast.”

Logan didn’t hear her after that. He tried to keep an ear peeled in case she got in over her head, but playing team had never been his thing. Leaving her to flash-pop her plasma bursts at the mechanoid of herself, he dove straight into the enemy team leader.

The other clones tried to protect Cyclops and in their turn, that got them torn to bits. The only one he spent any time putting down was the construct of himself.

A flash nearly blinded him and he snarled. He almost shouted at his friend to watch it, when he realized it was her clone. She was right on its heels, though, the advanced destructive power of her plasma bursts impressive at close quarters.

As his clone turned to deal with the new threat, Logan stabbed all six claws into its side below the ribs and then forced one arm up while pushing the other down. With a sparking whine, it tumbled down into three separate heaps of scrap and wire.

“Sheesh, dude. Maybe you need a spell on a couch, one with lots of Kleenex and a guy hiding behind his clipboard going, ‘Hmm … tell me about your mother.’”

“He’d get bored; I don’t remember my mother.” Stalking past her, he jumped to dodge an optic blast that sent the scraps of himself flying in all directions.

Behind him, he heard Jubilee speaking to Jubilee.

“Chill chica, ‘kay? Can’t we talk about this? Hey! No burning my hair, you witch! That’s it, move over on that couch, Wolvie, this tin snot is going down!”

“Kill, darlin’!” he called back to her. “Let ‘er rip!”

Stalking back up to Cyclops, he jumped around or over every shot the mechanical Summers fired at him. When he was close enough, he lunged and sprang into the air, hitting him full force. They skidded over ten feet before Logan stabbed his claws into the concrete to stop the slide. The next stab went into the construct’s thigh. After that, his humanity checked out for a while and let the beast play.

~ ~ ~

A sound from behind made him whirl, a snarl on his lips that displayed fangs. Jubilee stood there, her hands covering her mouth.

“Oh my God, Wolvie... Are you ... ticked at our fearless leader, maybe? I don’t think he was serious about shipping you out to pop Doc Ock into a gunnysack.”

Coming back to himself slowly, Logan felt his hackles smooth out. He was down on one knee with his claws buried in a collection of hissing spare parts that had gotten too small to keep slicing while standing on his feet.

“Just blowin’ off steam, darlin’.” Standing, he retracted his claws with a ~snakt~. “Too much fun fer ya?”

“Uh, nope, had a ball – right after I swallowed my gum. Anymore Freud crap you want to slice and dice, or can we go for pancakes? By the way, you’re buying, you hairy freak.”

Grinning, Logan nodded. “No prob.”

“Hey, with no one in the booth, how do we get out of here?”

“Program’ll run out in fifteen.”

“Super, but I’m hungry now, big bad cereal all gone. Can we speed it up?”

“Sure, with tha privilege o’ rank.” Raising his voice, he called out, “Professor Logan, termination code 00X7, execute.”

The Danger Room sounded a bell alarm in answer to the code and the holographic holocaust scene faded away. Panels in the floor opened beneath the robotic scrap, closing a second later to leave them standing in a bare and empty room. A heavy pressurized thump noise and a hiss announced that the outer door had unsealed and opened for them.

“Tight. I didn’t know the teachers could do that.”

“Hank added it on tha last upgrade, in case tha damn system goes haywire an’ tries t’ kill us all again.”

Jubilee gulped. “Again?”

“Uh-huh. Fetch yer jacket, Jubilation. I’ll take ya int’ Salem Center fer yer pancakes.”

“Yes! Back in five!”

Logan went out to the garage to wait for her, not bothering to get a jacket. The chill might help to calm his lingering rage and whirling thoughts. He sat on the Harley, put up the kickstand, and balanced it with his scuffed boots. Folding his arms over his chest, he put his chin down and closed his eyes.

More than just the messy situation with Jean plagued him, however. He’d bet good money the news clip Summers had been watching meant that his young friend in Chicago was in it deep.

 _Damn it, Rooke, I hope yer not messin’ with that tentacle_ _s bastard. It’d fit with th_ _a adamantium smell on ya, though. Shit_ _._

Soon enough he heard Jubilee, chattering about where she was going, with whom, and no she didn’t know when, and then the slam of the garage door.

There was a time when Jubes might have played at sneaking up on him or rushing up quickly. Those days, thankfully, were gone – she’d learned it wasn’t safe to startle him.

“Wolvie?”

Lifting his head, he turned slightly to look at her. “Miss that emergency flare yellow trench ya had, darlin’. Uniform black don’t suit ya.”

“I still have it, but I worry about it on the bike. I squirm too much, so it never stays tucked.” She approached, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder, the slender fingers moving down his arm as if she were petting a puppy. “I know you don’t really feel it, but it’s getting colder out.”

“I’ll be fine. Hop on an’ hang on.”

She was warm against his back as she settled behind him and slid her arms around his waist. He could feel the cut line of the cropped uniform jacket meeting at her belt across his lower back. He started the Harley and grinned at her whoop of excitement as he launched them out of the nearest open garage door.

Westchester County flashed by them on the way into town and in spite of her comment about squirming, she moved with his weight on the bike like a pro, leaning into turns exactly when he did. She was fearless and it had always been a thrill to experience things with her, to see them from her perspective a little instead of through the weight of his years.

Jubilee asked if they could have breakfast at his favorite haunt, the Auger Inn, but he vetoed that. The rough biker bar was no place for a kid, no matter how grown up she seemed, or thought that she was.

“Okay, how about the ‘Danger Pub’?” she shouted at his ear, nodding at Harry’s Hideaway.

“Thought ya wanted pancakes, not booze.”

“I want adventure, Wolvie!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a belly full o’ it lately.”

He stopped at the little mom-and-pop diner by the arcade instead and he led her to a booth in the back, where he could watch all doors and windows at once.

The waitress came up and smiled at them warmly. “Welcome back, Logan, Jubilee. What’ll you have?”

“Bring me whatever ya got on tap, Martha; she’s after pancakes.”

“It’s a bit early for beer, dude, I’m shoor. Dr. Pepper, please, and a loaded stack of buttermilk yum. Oh and bring him some kind of meat, ‘kay? I’m having second breakfast – he hasn’t eaten a thing.” She grinned.

“Some kind of meat?” Martha gave Logan another smile. “I’ll see what I can do about the beer, too. Be right back.”

“She likes you, dude and she’s cute. Most of the single gals in town like you and some of the hitched ones, too.”

“Celebrity’s hell.”

“Maybe you should look around – never know when someone could cheer you up, if you let them.”

He waited until Martha brought their drinks and left again to answer. He was impressed that she’d brought a pitcher, with a chilled glass, too.

“See?” Jubilee sipped her soda through a straw. “Likes you.”

“Ya had a real boyfriend yet? Holdin’ hands, all that?”

“I d’know how ‘real’ it was, but I’ve had some holding of this and that, shoor.”

“Well, when ya go fer broke an’ tha birdies eventually quit twitterin’, nine outta ten, it’s just a hassle.”

“Wow, that’s bleak, dude.”

“Yup.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I plan to be worshipped and adored.”

“I hope ya get it, then, darlin’. Hell, never settle fer less; it’s tha settlin’ that’ll put ya in an early grave – figuratively speakin’.”

“So what did you settle for lately?”

The question surprised him, but then he was saved by a lady with a tray. Assuming she couldn’t grill him through a game of twenty questions if his mouth was full, he stuffed it with the sausages and ham slices Martha brought.

Avoiding Jubilee’s probing curiosity by luring her into tales of their past adventures, it was an hour and another pitcher later before he realized that he was actually relaxed and enjoying himself a little. Even so, he knew he should take her back. Old stories made him restless, bringing out the wanderlust that often gripped him.

“Ya ready?”

“Yeah, if you are.”

Martha came over at his wave. “Here’s the check. Want a box for the rest of your pancakes, hon? I can put it in a bag, for the bike ride.”

“Yes, please.” Smiling at him, Jubilee joked, “I’ll have to mark it ‘biohazard’ to keep the rug rats out of it, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Put it in Hank’s lab fridge with tha real biohazards. Nobody goes lookin’ fer a snack in there.”

“Not even him?” She winked and stood up when Martha brought her a box and bag.

Logan handed Martha a generous tip and went to the counter to pay. Pulling his battered wallet from his back jeans pocket, he sighed when he realized he had a photo of Jean in there. It was torn in half, too. Had Scott been in the picture? He couldn’t remember.

At Jubilee’s urging, he sped all the way home, taking sharper turns every time she shrieked with delight.

Aiming for the open garage, he leaned over and executed a sharp sliding spin, stopping with a squeal of rubber as the back tire whipped around, directly into the parking space he’d had it in before.

Jubilee had a death grip on his waist, but she was laughing. Before climbing down, she hugged him tighter, her cheek on his back. “Thanks for breakfast, Wolvie, and the weird violent Freud thingy, too.”

“Needed tha comp’ny, like ya said.”

“Yes, I’m usually right; it’s a terrible burden. Hey, the box isn’t too crushed – bonus.”

He put the kickstand down and followed her into the kitchen. “Don’t trust Hank not t’ eat it?” he asked when she headed for the fridge.

“Or to not put his goo dishes on top of it,” she answered, making a face. Popping the box in without writing dire notes on it, she turned when the phone rang. Picking up the cordless handset, she announced, “Joe’s Mortuary: you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. Ha, um, no, yeah, this is the school, sorry. Oh, hey, hi! Where are you!”

Logan started to wave to her and leave, but she walked over fast and grabbed his wrist. “What? Don’t need t’ listen t’ ya on tha –”

Shaking her head at him, she said, “Yeah, he’s here, we just got in from breakfast. Hang on.” Jubes held out the phone. “It’s for you, Wolvie. It’s Rooke! Tell her to come back, I miss her.”

Worry slumped his shoulders as he took the phone and leaned against the counter. Jubilee lingered, but he knew Rooke wouldn’t care.

“Hiya, pun’kin. Still in one piece?” He listened as she jumped right in and described a pretty rough night, that ended, among other things, with her losing her new coat. “Ya need money?” He heard traffic behind her. Was she on a payphone?

The voice came louder through the phone; she was probably trying to hear herself over the noise around her. “No, I still have money – it was in my jeans. I just wanted to let you know I’m still around – in case you saw any news from here.”

Logan sighed. “I saw it. It went national. Octavius, darlin’? Not a good pick fer a lot o’ reasons.”

“I’ve been working on those exercises Xavier gave me, and it’s helped – I reached him once … but he doesn’t trust me.”

“Not many men like ‘im would, after that stunt ya pulled. Consequences can be a bitch. I assume yer not givin’ up, though I’d recommend it.”

“I can’t ... I love him. I know I can help him, too, if I can just get in the building.”

“They hide tha front door?”

“It’s Fort Knox – and booby-trapped to the max. The private elevator hits unauthorized personnel with nerve gas. I burrowed into the lab from a storm tunnel to steal the sample.”

“Sneaky.” He tapped his fingers on the phone, wishing she’d just ask him to go out there. “Tha offer o’ help still stands.”

“Thanks, but I can handle one murderous superfreak with a grab bag of Bond gadgets. His nerve gas made me drunk, but I handled it. Spiral’s a goddess.”

“Never had a complaint ‘bout ‘er, myself – at least nothin’ worth a grudge. Darlin’, ya gotta be careful; Octavius ain’t playin’ with a full deck. Ya sure there’s nothin’ I can do?”

“You could lend me Jean. An Omega-level telepath would make this easy.”

“She’s not mine t’ lend.”

He heard her sigh. “Don’t worry about it. She doesn’t like me, anyway.”

“‘Can’t approve o’ yer goals an’ methods’ was tha quote. Fer tha record, she don’t like mine, neither.”

“Mags can wait. My new goal is to rip that geek out of those metal brutes’ grip. He’s not a bad guy when he’s in charge of them – almost a carbon copy of the ‘we must help others even if they hate us’ drivel Xavier is always spooning everybody.”

Logan laughed. “Some o’ us believe it, an’ some just humor ‘im cuz they’re lookin’ fer somethin’ t’ do. Go rescue Dr. Jekyll then – but if Mr. Hyde tries t’ take ya out again, he’ll have me t’ answer t’.”

“Won’t be necessary. I have a brilliant plan.”

“As brilliant as tha last one?”

“Hey, that plan worked fine. Let’s just say, I bet his people aren’t coping well with the new bosses. It might open up negotiations a crack.”

“Darlin’, ya know savin’ ‘im from ‘isself ain’t a guarantee he’ll build a white picket fence an’ make ya tha missus.” He could see Jubilee trying to hear what Rooke was saying, but the last comment was too soft for it. For him, it was the most encouraging thing she’d said yet. “Spoken like an X-Man,” he teased her. “Fer what it’s worth, I’ll wish ya luck – picket fence an’ all.”

The moment he hung up the phone, Jubilee pounced. “What did she say, what did I miss? How was she speaking like an X-Man?”

“She’s mixed up with Doc Ock an’ tha birdies quit twitterin’. He’s up t’ ‘is ass in somethin’ he did t’ ‘isself an’ she’s gonna help ‘im, no matter what.”

“Rooke is dating Doctor Octopus?”

“No, Jubilation, not datin’. She bamboozled tha crackpot in ‘is bed, an’ then stole back some sample o’ ‘er metal she gave ‘im before t’ use as blackmail. It’s somethin’ t’ make ‘is contraption work, tha one tha Wall-crawler stopped ‘im from messin’ with here in New York.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Typical foot-in-it shit from tha cyborg end o’ tha mutant family tree.”

“You’re just mad because she didn’t invite you to go over there and kick his tail – er – tentacles.”

“Give it time.”

~ ~ ~

From the moment he left the house to go for a walk, he caught Jean’s scent; before he made the conscious decision to do so, he was already following her trail. The woods were speckled with afternoon sunlight and full of tiny sounds that most people would either never hear or would pay no attention to. To him, they were soothing; silence in a normally vibrant woodland was not a good sign.

Long before the trail led him toward the rock over the stream, he figured that was where she would go. He spotted her before she knew he was there. She had stretched herself out on her belly over the wide flat rock, her chin pillowed on her hands as she watched the stream. The breeze toyed with her long hair and the soft knit dress showed her figure enough to spark his heat.

 _God, yer beautiful,_  he thought. He met her gaze as her head lifted and turned to see him. Her eyes were still wet with the tears she’d cried – he had scented that, too. It drew him to comfort her as intensely as her want had lured his body.

“Logan…” she whispered.  _Can we just … not talk? I need you…_

Without a word, he went to her. When she reached to grab her dress and began to pull it up, he sucked in his breath and fell hard onto his knees between her spreading legs. His hands pushed the soft cloth away from softer skin, caressing her as he went. The sight of pristine white cotton panties stretched over her ass, damp with her desire, lured the beast within. He fell forward to all-fours and bent low to scent her, his tongue tip working under the edge of the cotton to taste her inviting flesh.

_Cut it, use your claws. I don’t care if it’s soft or rough, I want – whatever you need this to be._

The ache in his arms from the claws seeking to push free – she had sensed him trying to fight it.  _Gonna kill me with this, Jeannie… What a way t’ go._  He felt the bones move slowly and shift, the soft sounds around them stopping at the sinister ~snikt~ noise of the adamantium clicking against itself at his wrist. After a breath, the insects and small creatures resumed their lives, paying no attention to the slit of soft cotton.

Jean moaned when he gave her his tongue and fingers. He felt the warmth of her power at his belt and then growled with hunger when the belt and jeans undid themselves. His clawed hand spread one of her legs wider, the other hand reaching for what she wanted.

Shoving the jeans and waistband of his boxers out of the way, he gripped his cock and then snarled with pleasure at the feel of her telekenesis wrapping around it. The pressure was perfect, even if the strangeness of it made his hackles rise. The beast within could be alarmed all he wanted to, but the man could barely breathe.

Fascinated, he watched it happen, aware she was in turn watching him. The unseen warm grip squeezed and stroked until he groaned. The moment it began to drip, the foreskin retracting, he moved over her. His claws sheared off a piece of stone from the edge when he used that hand to keep his weight off of her. She lifted her hips as he entered her and gasped as he began to thrust.

Turning her head, Jean carefully kissed one of his claws. Opening her mouth, she ran her tongue down the side of the lethal blade.

 _Careful,_  he thought, knowing she was in his mind.

 _Let me feel your weight,_  she answered,  _and your teeth…_

He pressed her down, scenting her pheromones thicken around them when she was unable to keep her hips raised under him. The angle, making it harder to sink deep, left him thrusting short and fast. He set his teeth at the join of her neck and shoulder and paused.

 _Bite,_  she urged.  _Be the beast for me; I can feel that’s what you want. I … I love that wildness, the passion of it. Please fuck me…_

The harsh crude words from her cultured thoughts made him lose the tenuous hold he had on the beast within. He had tried to be the man for her, but if she wanted the animal… It didn’t become the bestial rage, with a red haze seeking blood; he didn’t lose himself – but in allowing that side of him to take over, it felt like freedom.

_Harder, be rough – be what you are…_

With a growl, he bit deeper and tasted her blood in his mouth. Letting go of restraint, of fears that she wouldn’t accept, he simply drove into her body as it shuddered and squeezed his cock, over and over. She couldn’t have escaped him without hurting him, yet she lay eagerly pressed under him and moaned for the brutal thrusts.

The clawed hand moved, blades scoring the stone. With a ~snikt~ the claws erupted from his other hand when he began to come. There was no hope of holding back, no point in regrets, and then it was over. They lay panting on the warmed stone, sweating and so alive it was hard to contain the fleeting joy.

Logan moved and rose, reluctant to leave her body. He settled on his side, gathered her into his arms and rolled to his back with her on top of him. He was about to retract the claws, until her fingertips touched them as she kissed him.

_Quite a picture we’d make, anybody came along…_

_I don’t care._

_Ya might, Jeannie._

Breaking the kiss to stare into his eyes, she smiled. “They won’t come here, because I don’t want them to,” she whispered.

“Ya put tha ‘keep out’ whammy on tha whole forest? ‘Ro might notice an’ wonder why.”

“Afraid to be caught with me?” she teased.

Logan snorted. “Yer tha one wants t’ screw on tha down-low. I wanna howl it on tha rooftop. Had no clue ya could stroke me with yer TK – downright kinky.”

“Too weird?”

“Not a bit, darlin’. Ya know, if ya like it this way, suits me perfect. Gimme time an’ I could get ya winnin’ bar fights an’ huntin’ deer in tha snow. Nude.”

“Don’t count your chickens, ‘bub’. Missions are one thing, but I have a hot shower and warm bed addiction.”

Logan laughed. “Ain’t gotta be a wild woman all tha time, Jeannie. I fell in love with tha lady first, after all.”

“I wanted to do this earlier; speaking to Charles was not the best part of my day.”

“Keepin’ this from ‘im ain’t gonna be easy. Can’t barely muster tha worry on Cyke’s account, but Chuck’s a tough one t’ sneak ‘round.”

“It doesn’t bother you? I’m technically still his…”

“Cyke don’t own ya. Legal side’s just paper. T’ be honest, yeah, it bothers me. Instinct wants t’ make ya mine, but that’s diff’rent an’ it’s yer decision, not ‘is.”

Jean picked her head up to look at him. “Is that why you were cutting a clone robot of him into spark plugs in the Danger Room this morning?”

“That was just blowin’ off steam, darlin’.”

“The same answer you gave Jubilee, almost like a prepared response. Is it the truth?”

“Ya tell me. Maybe it’s ‘bout time ya looked at that side o’ me, too.”

“I am…”

He watched her as she kissed the top of a metal claw, above the sharp edges. Swallowing as she licked up it to his hand, he winced at the feel of his cock growing hard again. Her lips moved to kiss the root of the claws where they always tore his skin, her fingers massaging his arm.

“Retract them for me…” As he did, slowly, she felt the bones shift and move in his forearm. She held his gaze for a stretch of breaths before she closed her eyes and lay down to rest on him again.

With a sharp ~snakt~ he retracted them all and gently turned her head. She moaned when his tongue began to lick the blood from the bite she’d asked for. “How ya gonna explain this?” he murmured over her skin.

“I don’t plan to. I live in sweaters until spring. No one but you is trying to see me topless these days.”

“Speakin’ o’ which,” he muttered, and started to work his hands under the sweater, but she stopped him.

“I should go back.”

“An’ tha next time…?”

“We live in each other’s pockets, Logan. You see me every day.”

“Coy don’t suit ya, Red. Bein’ ‘round ya, scentin’ what ya want – it can drive a feral boy insane. Need t’ have ya again, soon. Not here at home – need t’ be somewhere … else.”

“Like a date?” She smiled as she sat up on him, straddling his thighs. Her warm weight made his cock ache with renewed heat. “We had moonlight and roses in the maze garden.”

Logan sat up and held her close, nuzzling her shoulder under her hair. “I’ll take what I can get, but I want it all, Jeannie. I love ya … an’ someday I’m gonna ask ya again if ya could love me.”

He kept his head down, hiding his face in her hair. He didn’t want to know if she was looking at him, or if her gaze was on the chimneys of the house in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan’s conversation with Rooke also takes place in my Doc Ock tale, Of Dreams and Dust, in chapter seven. For those who are curious about what’s going on with Rooke, see that story for details. Pikachu is from Pokemon; I have no idea who owns them. As always, thank you all for reading and reviewing! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	12. Epilogue: Whisper to a Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: The following chapter will be bisected by two events in the New X-Men series, “Riot at Xavier’s” (# 135 – 138) and “Murder at the Mansion” (# 139 – 141). I’ll toss in another Author’s Note (with Spoiler Warning!) to let you know when these events take place, because I have no time to rewrite them within my story. In the form of dreams, some other events will be alluded to, that take place in further issues of New X-Men. For those who want to know more, please refer to these issues as well for details: “Assault on Weapon Plus” (# 142 – 145) and “Planet X” (# 146 – 150).
> 
> That having been said, it may be a bumpy canon ride from here on out – sorry about that! My story will lead up to the riot and murder, jump over them, and then resume afterward. Fair warning, here be spoilers! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

It wasn’t my intention to mislead you  
It never should have been this way  
What can I say  
It’s true I did extend the invitation  
I never knew how long you’d stay  
When you hear temptation call  
It’s your heart that takes, takes a fall  
Won’t you come out and play with me

Step by step, heart to heart, left right left  
We all fall down like toy soldiers  
Bit by bit torn apart we never win  
But the battle wages on for toy soldiers

It’s getting hard to wake up in the morning  
My head is spinning constantly  
How can it be  
How could I be so blind to this addiction  
If I don’t stop the next one’s gonna be me  
Only emptiness remains  
It replaces all, all the pain  
Won’t you come out and play with me  
Step by step, heart to heart, left right left  
We all fall down like toy soldiers

~ Toy Soldiers (Martika)

*****************************************************************

She watched in frustrated silence as Scott’s expression softened, his thoughts obviously wandering. Beast and Emma, in contrast, were paying close attention to Professor Xavier’s words – until her presence at the door made him pause.

“Yes, Jean? Did you need me?” Charles asked.

“No, and I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you all know I was leaving – I’m meeting my friend Nicole for dinner. She found a new spot in Mt. Vernon she wanted to try, after conquering all of the bistros in Manhattan.”

“Oh, yes, and I hope you have an enjoyable evening.” In her mind, he added,  _I trust she can help you relax? You’ve been all too stressed lately_ _, after our talk_ _s..._

“Thank you, Charles. Nicole and I always have a wonderful time.”  _Don’t worry – I’m sure I’ll feel better by the time I come home._

Frowning at the lax expression on her husband’s face as he stared out the window, Jean turned on her heels and left, heading for the garage. He didn’t even seem to care if she was there or not and it pierced the guilt she had almost begun to feel.

Jean didn’t bother to take her car. Enveloping herself in a burst of telekinetic power, she rose up from the driveway outside of the building and shot into the clouds.

~ ~ ~

With a yelp, she felt them topple off the edge of the bed. Growling, Logan pulled her over him so that it was his shoulders and back that slammed into the floor. Jean laughed, loving the indignant look on his face. She started to get up from where she had landed, plastered over him, but he grabbed her arms in his strong hands and held her still.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Back onto the bed? We can’t just –” She swallowed her protest when he lifted his head to suckle on a nipple.

Releasing it to look up at her, he grinned, displaying fangs. “Said ya wanted t’ know how tha other half lives. It’s either fuck me on this grimy carpet, or we go teach ya how t’ bar fight.”

“Are those my only options?” she teased.

“We could always go upstate an’ hunt deer – in tha nude, with our bare hands.”

“I’ll take the carpet.”

“Figured ya’d see it my way.”

Jean stared down into his eyes, entranced by the fierce passion and humor shining in them. They had been rough, as bestial as he needed to be, and then they had been slow and soft, making love in a way she never had before him. She’d spent hours in this room, looking at his beautiful strong body, touching it, tasting it – but she never tired of watching his eyes.

Without looking away, they let hands and bodies find each other again. She felt tears well up as he entered her, thrusting beneath her, until the blue jewels of his eyes closed slowly as sensation and heat overwhelmed him.

One hand on his chest could feel the pounding of his heart, as the other pressed her palm to the side of his face. Her thumb caressed the soft black sideburn there.

His hands stroked her so skillfully that she knew he could have brought her to climax only by that touch. Yet with every thrust, every slow grind she gave his hips, the passion they made took their breath away.

Still, she found she wanted more. As she had done once in the cave, she connected to his mind on a deeper level, allowing a closeness she had both craved and missed. He felt the change and she knew the difference for him was shocking – almost as if they’d become one being.

“Oh God,” he whispered, all rough teasing forgotten. “I love ya, Jean...”

“Logan, look at me.” When those eyes locked onto hers, her tears began to fall.

“What’s wrong –”

“Shhh ... I just want to see your eyes, see how you look at me.”

There were facets in them, multiple shades of blue, with a few flecks of amber and slivers of green. The other colors set off the blues until they gleamed.

His fingers rose to catch her tears, bringing them to his lips. When she leaned in to kiss him, he rolled them over. Before his weight came down, he left her, but only to lift her in his arms.

Laying her down gently in the devastated bed, he took her foot in his hands and kissed the instep, then the arch. Setting it down farther from the other foot, he picked that one up next and kissed it.

Falling to his chest between her legs, he pressed his lips first up one calf and then the other. His tongue flicked at the undersides of her knees before she bent and raised them, spreading them wide. Her fingers slid into his hair, gently tugging to move him, but he wasn’t in a hurry anymore. Urgency had been melted into something else, something she’d never experienced before.

His blunt nails ran up the inside of her thighs, his tongue and lips following after, first one and then the other. Catching her hands, he used his thumbs to press gently on her wrists, below the pinky fingers. She didn’t understand why, until the careful but steady pressure began to intensify her senses and her lust.

The care he took in touching her, in giving her pleasure, and the things she sensed in his thoughts, made her feel ... worshipped. Yet it was his need for her, as always, that sparked her passion, spiraling it beyond expression.

Hot breath on her shuddering skin, his fingers caressing lightly below her navel, he whispered, “Lie t’ me, Jeannie ... just this once...”

She covered her face with her hands, conflicted, afraid to hurt him.

“It’s okay ... I know ya don’t. I know. I just ... please...”

His mouth was rising higher, heated breath brushing her sex as muscular arms circled her thighs. In the moment that he began to suckle her, she gasped out a cry. What she sensed from him then made her feel safe, protected ... and gave her courage.

Eyes squeezed shut under her hands, she breathed out, “Logan, I ... I love you.” She gasped again at his groan as his tongue lapped, and then thrust into her.

Hands falling hard to his shoulders, her fingers grasped the back of his neck, trying to bring him to her. He rose at her urging but didn’t enter her again. She felt his hard cock against her thigh and tried to shift, but his arms blocked her shoulders and held her still.

The kiss nearly stole away her mind, her thoughts separating like smoke as his tongue twined on hers. It was almost more than she could bear without him in her. He kept her on edge until she thought she might scream, and then thrust up into her hard, all at once. A few fast pumps to quiet her, and then he settled into that rhythm that he could maintain forever, yet would only keep until inspired to change it – speed, angle, or urgency altering to make her come over and over. She knew he could exhaust her long before he was close to losing control of his own passion.

His fingers were touching her throat, the pad of the thumb of his other hand pressing carefully into the center of her chest between her breasts, somehow making her pleasure double, her stomach flutter. Then he began other tricks he’d never done to her before, and finally, on the waves of another climax, she did scream, but he took her mouth and swallowed the cry.

Only when she was boneless and half mad with pleasure, did he begin to pay attention to his own release. His thrusts grew urgent, and she tried to raise her knees higher to allow him to push deeper. His hands gripped her behind the knees and lifted them up, his back bowed as he shoved himself as far as he could into her, their bodies slick with sweat.

Logan drew in a long breath and she knew he was scenting her, drowning in her. Opening her eyes, she met his – and the light in them stole her breath all over again. He held her gaze until his body convulsed, his seed spilling. Then the blue jewels closed tight, his mouth opening, the tendons standing out on his neck as every muscle tensed and then shuddered.

Unconcerned about any neighbors, he let his shout become a bestial roar before he collapsed – falling onto his palms on either side her head. Panting, he looked down at her; his expression and mind were open, welcoming her, his slight smile vulnerable.

She reached for him, wanting to feel his weight, and he lay on her for a moment, shuddering again when her hands stroked and kneaded the muscles of his back.

Finally rolling to her side, he gathered her up into his arms, holding her close. His lips pressed to her forehead, the kiss whispering over her skin.

They lay silent for a long time, letting their breathing slow. When Jean could feel his heart thumping more calmly under her hand, she stirred. Lifting her face to his, she kissed him lightly, feeling his lips smile under hers.

“It’s got to be getting late,” she whispered. “I should get back.”

“Bit cold out now t’ fly,” he said, dropping his head to kiss her throat. “Lemme drive ya.”

“That won’t look a little odd? I’m supposed to be out with Nicole. No one would ever mistake you for leggy fashion designer.”

“Not even if I stood on tiptoe?”

“Also, she’d never ride a Harley and even with proper lubricant, I may still be too sore to sit on one. It wouldn’t really be any warmer, either.” Groaning, she moved back to get his mouth off of her skin. “Don’t – start that again, or we’ll be crawling back at dawn with a lot of explaining to do.”

“They all heard me leave hours before ya did. Told Beast an’ Angel I was headin’ int’ tha Bronx.”

“Well, at least you weren’t lying.”

“My point bein’, ya had too much wine an’ needed a lift. Yer friend was gonna call ya a taxi, but then I happened by, checkin’ up on ya. Yer eatery was on tha way home from my ratty bar. See? I can lie just fine.”

“First, let’s get out of this evil bed and get cleaned up … then we can discuss your lie further.” She extricated herself from his embrace and stood.

Grunting, he rolled over onto his stomach, throwing his arms up around his head. “Ladies first on tha shower.”

Sighing, Jean picked her way through their strewn clothing, snatching what she’d worn on the climb up to this dump of a room as she went.

~ ~ ~

By the time she shut off the hair dryer that was nailed to the wall and emerged dressed, Logan was sound asleep and snoring like a buzz saw.

Looking down at him fondly as she put on her boots, she blew him a kiss and slipped out, making sure the lock clicked behind her. For a few moments, she leaned against the door and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get her thoughts and her story straight before returning home to a den of telepaths.

Jean drew on her coat as she walked down the stairs, shivering in the chilled night air. As she walked by the motorcycle, her fingers stroked down the leather seat. Then a voice spoke over her head, making her jump.

“Sure, sneak off just t’ pet tha scoot. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout gettin’ jealous, Red.”

He was dressed, if a little rumpled, and had obviously skipped the shower. He buckled his belt as he came down the stairs, cowboy boots stomping with uncharacteristic noise. It was almost an apology for having snuck up behind her, and it made her smile.

“I was going to let you stay and sleep.”

“I was gonna give ya a ride home. ‘Sides, if I slept too long in a hole like that, I’d wake up with fleas. One o’ tha disadvantages o’ tha pay first no-tell motels.”

“It was your choice. I suggested the Waldorf Astoria.”

“Wouldn’t fit in with yer backwoods education; plus, they know ya there. Ain’t nobody gonna mistake me fer Slim neither, even in tha dark an’ blind drunk.”

Passing her, he mounted the motorcycle, put up the kickstand with his boot heel and settled the heavy machine between his legs. The shocks groaned just a little under his weight. His thick and gorgeous arms crossed over his chest, bunching the yellow X on the black t-shirt.

Her eyes traveling over his tight leather pants, she answered, “I’m sure I left some hot water up there.”

“Folks are used t’ seein’ me drag home smellin’ like booze, stogies, an’ sex; nobody’ll bat an eye, trust me.”

“They’re not used to seeing me like that – and Nicole’s not that kind of girl.”

“What a shame,” he answered, grinning. “Had yer shower, though, so not a prob.”

“You’re not playing fair, sitting like that.” She loved the sight of his muscular body holding up that brute of a machine, and all the old distaste and fear of his rougher edges had long since begun to fade.

“I know – why’d ya think I sat on it? C’mon, Jeannie – let yer hair down, let it blow. I can always drop ya off a mile out an’ let ya fly in, if ya’d rather.”

Shaking her head, she approached and accepted his hand to help her up behind him.

“Whattaya think now, yer ass good t’ ride?”

“I suspect I will survive the experience. Did you know you’re absolutely incorrigible?”

“Yup. Tuck in an’ hang on.”

He drove up the Hutchinson River Parkway and then changed over to Interstate 684 and on into Westchester County and Salem Center. At the rate of speed they were going, they wouldn’t be too late getting home.

Jean held him tightly, alternating between laying her head on his shoulder and pressing her face against his furry cheek. She sighed when he finally pulled over on a smaller road and stopped, the noise and vibration of the machine still reaching into her bones.

Turning his head, Logan kissed her. “Gotta twenty minute trip from here, Jeannie, as tha telekinetic crow flies.”

Jean leaned in and kissed him back, letting it deepen just to hear the thrumming soft growl of lust deep in his throat. Escaping his mouth before she ended up pulling him off of the motorcycle and into a convenient ditch, she murmured, “Maybe I did have too much wine with dinner?”

Grinning, he made the Harley jump forward and swung into the road again. Inspired by her tightening grip and shout of laughter, he put on another burst of speed until they almost were flying.

The mansion was mostly dark when they pulled into the garage. As soon as Logan turned off the engine, he gave her his arm to help her down and then set the machine on its kickstand.

Patting uselessly at the tangled mess of her hair, she watched him dismount, but when he came up to embrace her, she stepped back.

“We have to be careful,” she whispered, trying to placate the fresh spark of his frustration. A little louder, she added, “Thanks for picking me up. Goodnight, Logan.”

He didn’t move or respond, and she retreated from both his silence and his warmth while she was still capable of walking away.

She didn’t hear the garage door open and shut again until she was halfway up the stairs.

Jean reached her suite, her tale of a wonderful evening ready, but her husband wasn’t there. A quick scan told her he wasn’t even in the mansion. Touching Beast’s thoughts in his lab, she reached out to him.

_Hank? Where is Scott_ _?_

_Oh, hello, Jean, did you enjoy your evening out_ _?_

_Yes, Nicole is an amazing woman. Scott? He’s not here?_

_He left on a mission with Warren. Sorry – I assumed you knew._

_No, I didn’t. Thanks, Hank. Goodnight._

_Goodnight, my dear._

Abruptly irrationally angry, she stripped off her coat and boots and tossed them across the sitting room. Staring at the coat where it had fallen, she finally forced herself to move, to get ready for bed.

~ ~ ~

She woke after hours of fitful tossing and turning and lay in bed in silence for another hour before rising. Pulling her robe over her nightdress, she went through the empty suite and out into the hall.

Entering the men’s residence wing, she stopped outside of Logan’s door. Touching his sleeping mind lightly, she was surprised to find him in the grip of a strange nightmare.

Testing the doorknob and finding it unlocked, she slipped inside the room and closed the door. Assuming he would scent her in the room, she moved to his bedside.

Her hand was just reaching out to touch his shoulder, when he gave a shout and jerked up, the claws snapping out with a ~snikt~. She leapt back, barely in time to avoid injury. Hands on her chest, she stared down at him, her breath coming fast.

“Jeannie ... what ... are ya doin’? Ya know better – I coulda hurt ya!”

“I’m sorry. I sensed you where having a bad dream – I wanted to wake you.”

With a ~snakt~, the claws retracted, and he rubbed his face with his palms. “Fuck. Nearly stabbed ya...” His hair was still damp from a shower, his eyes haunted when he looked at her.

“What were you dreaming? The emotions were ... bad.”

He shook his head and sighed. His knees rose under a sheet damp with sweat, and he rested his wrists on them. “Rather not jaw ‘bout that, Red. Whattaya doin’ here? All worried ‘bout appearances before, weren’t ya?”

“I was sleeping alone – or not sleeping... Logan, I’m so tired of being alone.”

“I’m tha quick fix fer that, remember? Unless ya wanna chuck it all; then I’d be happy t’ be tha long fix – if it was public.”

“Can’t I just stay – for a quick fix?”

He knew it was a bad idea as well as she did, but he pulled back the sheet without a word. She lay beside him when he stretched out and sighed softly as he held her close. Her hand stroked down his stomach, but his whispering voice stopped it.

“Jubes said they went t’ Allentown, won’t be gone long.” Picking up her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Just relax, Jeannie … sleep if ya can. I’ll wake ya when I hear tha jet.”

~ ~ ~

Jean realized she’d been holding her breath as her latest class filed out. She kept her private thoughts buried under a windswept world of snow at all times now. It was the only way to even hope to keep a clandestine tryst a secret in a house full of telepaths. She knew Charles felt the clever block and it left both of them feeling awkward around each other – they were used to a comfortable mental connection through most of the day. Emma never tried to pry, for which she was grateful.

The telepathic students were another matter. They often pushed boundaries in all areas of life, trying to test and try their abilities. She was relieved she only had this one class with them. Most of their education in mindreading and blocking was Emma’s responsibility.

She turned to erase the board. Her last two classes of the day had been cancelled for the school’s field trip into New York. Only a few students were staying behind and Hank was in charge of them.

Jean rolled her shoulders and sighed. She was supposed to talk with Scott, but at the last minute, Charles had asked if she could spare him for the trip. One look at her husband’s expression and she knew he wanted to go. All at once, it just didn’t seem important; at least they hadn’t asked her. Herding excited students in a huge busy city would not help her relax.

A crunch startled her but a breath later she sensed him behind her. Logan had claimed the apple that had been left on her desk. “Trying to prove you can sneak up on me without being noticed? You convinced me of that in the rose garden.”

“Movin’ quiet is my natural state, Jeannie. If ya didn’t keep yer brains on lockdown, ya’d sense me quicker.”

“I thought you got drafted to go into the city.”

“I ain’t nobody’s first pick fer chaperone duty on tha town. Cyke’s too worried I’d take tha older boys off an’ teach ‘em how t’ win bar fights.”

“Did you know I was staying?”

“Nope, Hank just told me. He’s out at tha pool with tha bunch that couldn’t go. They turned tha heat on t’ go swimmin’. I’m ‘sposed t’ ask ya if ya wanna burger or a dog.”

“Neither.” She paused, staring at him. He didn’t comment, too used to her attention splitting off to scan the school and grounds. “Are you going back out there?”

“Not unless ya are. Ain’t a soul in tha house right now, not fer hours. Pool crowd’s gonna watch movies in tha home theater when they come in.”

Jean turned to see him leaning a hip against the corner of her desk. He took another bite of the apple and winked at her. He was dressed in loose black jogging pants and barefoot. His white undershirt was clean but bore tell-tale holes in places that were stretched open over his muscles.

“For hours?” She couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto her lips.

He held out the apple. “Temptin’, huh? Wanna bite?”

Moving to stand in front of him, she slid her fingers over his and held them as she bit into the fruit, letting the juice wet her lips. His kiss melted her into him. He broke it to feed her the last few bites of fruit. Tossing the core into the trash bin by the desk, he backed away from her toward the door.

“Where?” she asked.

“My room – nobody left here has tha guts t’ bug me on a night off.”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

He gave her a nod and turned away. As she closed up the room, she couldn’t hear him going down the hall or up the stairs.

Jean went to her suite to change and freshen up. He loved the soft knit dresses, so she chose one in dark blue that had sleeves and set it on the bed. With a smile, she slipped her panties and bra off and found a set to wear that she didn’t care for much. She pulled the dress on over her head and then brushed her hair. Not showering seemed strange to her, but she knew he’d want her to hurry more than he’d care about that.

In the bathroom, she stared for a moment at Scott’s things on one side of the double sinks. A sadness welled up inside, but she pushed it down.  _He could have chosen to be here, to put us first. He chose to run off away from that. Down the hall is a man who loves me with everything he is. I may not know what I want, but I do know I’m sick of being alone._

Walking off barefoot, she closed the suite door and went to Logan’s room. The closer she got, the more she wanted it and knowing he would know only made it more intense.

Her knock was soft. “Logan?” she called as she opened the door. Closing it quietly and leaning back against it, she saw him standing by the window. When his head turned to look at her, she opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t as she watched him stride swiftly across the room.

He never spoke; he grasped her upper arms and kissed her, his body pressing hers into the wood. She clung to him and ground her hips against him, gasping when he broke the kiss to put his mouth on her throat.

“Now,” she whispered in his ear. “Right here.” The growl she got and the slide of his hands to shove her dress up made her groan. Two fingers hooked in her panties on either side. “Cut it, rip it, I don’t care…” She cried out when he tore it and then she reached to fumble with his waistband.

Logan yanked his cock out, the pants barely clinging to his ass. His fingers found her wet and ready. They struck the door hard as he gripped her leg behind the knee and lifted it. She buried her face in his wild long black hair and when his cock shoved up inside her, she opened her mouth and bit his shoulder to keep from crying out.

Jean groped for his mind as he thrust, the feral nature hard to grasp even as he opened to her eagerly.  _I want to know what you feel…_  It swallowed her when she connected to his need, the physical and emotional sensations and curling tension gathering in her body. She felt how his body experienced hers. Pushing for more, she clung to him harder and came instantly when she almost became him.

Logan growled low and hungrily, drawing his breath in deep with a hiss. As he began to come, she did cry out at the pleasure of it from two sources clashing in her body and in his.

They both staggered briefly, and then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. She watched as he stripped down and then stripped her. Lying there in her bra, she whispered, “Cut it with your claws…”

~Snikt~

He stared at her, drinking in her lust as a single claw slipped under the strings between the cups and slit them. They fell away to bare her breasts and he crawled over her to suckle the nipples, one after the other. He was going to pleasure her until he could … mount her … again. The thought was his and while it might have driven her away before, now it only made her more eager.

~Snakt~

After only a few minutes of his tongue thrusting inside her, he was ready again. He didn’t ask, he didn’t need to – she shifted, he rose and entered her again and they clutched at each other, their mouths frantic and greedy.

Time blurred, her world shrinking down mercifully to one room and one tireless lover. She hadn’t noticed the changing light outside as the sunset painted red and orange right over the bright blue of day.

~ ~ ~

Returning from his bathroom, she paused to glance at his books, smiling again at the titles that would have surprised most people who had ever seen or met him. Reminded of the small altar across the room, she glanced at him. “Would you mind if I burned some incense for her? I don’t know if that is … proper?”

He nodded to her without answering.

Jean turned and knelt naked before the altar, feeling a little oddly self-conscious with the smiling photo of the beautiful and regal Mariko seemingly watching her fondly. She set a cone of cherry incense in the small bowl in front of the frame and lit it. Shutting the little cabinet, she looked at the photo.

 _I’m trying,_ she told the woman. Tears pricked her eyes as the sweet smoke rose.

“She woulda liked ya…” he whispered. “She took t’ Madelyn in an instant. Hell, she liked Rogue right off tha bat – way before I quit growlin’ long ‘nuff t’ give tha poor girl a chance.”

“Madelyn and Rogue weren’t leaving your bed to pay their respects.”

“What happened t’ Mi’ko-chan had nothin’ t’ do with ya, darlin’; yer spirit, yer dedication t’ tha fight – yeah, she woulda loved ya straight off. She had a gift fer readin’ folks’ hearts.”

Jean sighed, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. “She saw yours; it took me so long to see it … beneath the rest…”

“Jeannie…?” He held his hands out to her.

She rose and went to sit on the bed in front of him, taking his hands in hers. He leaned in to kiss her and when the tears fell, he kissed them away. “We don’t know when they’ll get back,” she whispered.

“Sun ain’t even down yet – we got time.” He kissed her neck and down to her collarbone. One hand released hers to caress her back, the fingers slowly exploring below the base of her tailbone. The hand that still held hers tightened their grip. “Damn, darlin’, I just can’t stop…”

“You’re afraid if you let me leave this room, it could be a while before the next time.” She gasped as a fingertip rubbed gently at the tight muscle of her anus.  _It had been good that way in the shabby motel, easier than in the cave…_

“Am I wrong?” he whispered.

“No… It’s difficult to hide this. I…”

“Ya ain’t gotta explain, darlin’; I know what I signed on fer.” His exploring fingers moved to her hip and stilled. “Ya wanna try an’ fix yer marriage or ya woulda dumped ‘im by now. Even if ya can’t fix it, ya might not be ready t’ take up with me. Hellfire, maybe yer never gonna be an’ ain’t never gonna want me that way. I can’t change how ya feel no matter how much I wish I could.”

“I know we have a lot in common, especially here with the school, but it seems there’s so much more that isn’t easy to compromise on.” Jean took a deep breath and let it out slow. “This is an insane and unfair question, considering I’m the one wearing the scarlet letter here, but … could you be faithful to me? You don’t bring anyone here; you just … leave and find them.”

Logan smiled. “Ya heard too many infamous tales o’ tha walkabouts an’ road pussy o’ tha single Canucklehead. If we were a pair, Jeannie, in tha open, ya might find me less antsy. Rest assured I can keep it in my britches if ya stake a claim on it. T’ be honest, a lot o’ that restlessness comes from havin’ t’ watch ya with Slim. Oh I gotta wanderlust, no lie ‘bout that – but a happy critter with ‘is mate in a warm den ain’t gonna need t’ wander so much. Ya might be surprised what I’d be willin’ t’ curtail t’ make ya mine.”

“That’s … one of the problems we have, Logan. If I try to change you into something you’re not, you could end up resenting me. If you had someone you could go traveling with, who loved the wilds as much and could let their hair down more…”

“I ain’t in love with nobody like that, Jeannie – I’m in love with ya, plain an’ simple. I can wait, an’ if it never happens … then I’ll just hafta cross that bridge. Ya know, I’d already fallen fer ya before I met Mi’ko-chan. She was even more proper an’ cultured than ya ever wanted t’ be. I knew it wasn’t in tha cards t’ ever have ya, so I let ‘er in an’ ended up so in love it’ll probly never die – even though she … did.”

“Our enemies destroyed your dream of marrying her, but later, you separated. I wasn’t around for that…”

“I wanted t’ take out ‘er father’s criminal mess my way, but she wouldn’t lemme do that. Tha slow an’ honorable way o’ doin’ it ‘erself got ‘er killed. She wanted tha samurai, not tha beast. She was willin’ t’ gimme time t’ get there, as a wife, then or later. Then we both just … ran outta time.”

“You did become the samurai for her. The others told me.”

“I did, yeah … or part o’ me did. I learned that no matter how hard I try t’ deny my nature, it’s still there. Sometimes it came out in ways that strained us t’ a pretty thin line, but we were workin’ it out, mostly on opposite sides o’ tha world. If I ever run int’ somebody that’s more like me an’ wants me, maybe I could love ‘em, but it seems t’ me I keep fallin’ fer ladies that challenge me t’ step up an’ be a better man. What if that’s what I need? ‘Nother wild thing like me would probly just get me stuck bein’ a beast half tha time, too damn dumb t’ notice that he could be more.”

“Logan… You are more. Your feral nature has merit too, and the samurai is a part of who you are, just as the beast is; none of us are one thing only.”

“Now an’ then, I think I try t’ be things cuz I dunno who I am at my core. Always feel so rough on tha edges, such a blank fucked up slate. Sometimes I wonder how ya can stand it, yer so t’gether most o’ tha time. Me? Don’t even know my own name. ‘Logan’ was on a dog tag when I woke up outta tha red haze. It was all I had.”

“I … feel lost now, too. You are so good to me, such a generous and astounding lover. Yet we were great friends first and I can’t ignore how this could hurt you. You say you’ve loved me for so long; don’t you ever get tired of waiting for me?”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Been ‘bout fed up a few times, yeah. Then I see or scent ya, hear ya laugh … an’ I just seem t’ end up waitin’ a li’l more. It’s a choice I make, Jeannie – not like ya sentenced me t’ this.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. It has to be like torture. I wish I knew what to do.”

“Tha others, tha women I meet… Dunno if I don’t deserve a li’l o’ this sweet torture o’ yers. Tha ones that just wanna tear offa piece, that’s a game, but tha ones that get hurt cuz they want more? I can’t seem t’ give that, but I take tha ghost o’ it fer comfort an’ they … take it like I promised somethin’, an’ in a way, it’s true.”

“This isn’t penance for that. It’s my mess and you stumbled into it because I pulled you in. You have your own troubles and I should have respected that, but it’s done now. I’m so afraid of telling you I could try … because I’m already terrified that I’d make it worse for you. Your anger, the rages… You don’t need me toying with you because I feel lonely and abandoned. As your friend, if someone else treated you this way – I’d tell you they were awful and that you should leave them and go be happy.”

“Tha anger…” He sighed. “Sometimes I need tha bar fights an’ tha battles, t’ work out tha rage an’ tha shame o’ doin’ what I do, o’ bein’ what I am or not knowin’ who I am. I got no right t’ mix up some defenseless stranger in that, but ya know me, probly better than I do; yer strong, even when ya think yer not. I guess … I guess I dunno what tha fuck I’m tryin’ t’ say…”

“You … feel safe … loving me?”

“Even when ya pull my heart out an’ tuck it back in later upside-down … yeah, I do.”

“You can’t help not being able to love them. We love whom we love.”

“Been obsessed with a thought lately, can’t remember where it came from – book, song, play, no clue, but it stuck. ‘Do not sow where ya cannot expect t’ stay.’ When I know it ain’t just fer kicks t’ ‘em an’ I got no intention o’ stayin’ when tha sun comes up … then I ain’t bein’ an honorable man at all. Needin’ comfort an’ release, that ain’t no excuse.”

“I’m not sure if you’re talking about you or me, now,” she whispered, “but I know you are an honorable man. We all make mistakes, do things we regret.”

“I ain’t doin’ tha honorable thing with those women that I know have fallen fer me by a long shot, but it’s … easier t’ pick up an’ leave than explain t’ ‘em that I already gave my heart away. Ya can try t’ give it back, Jeannie, but I dunno how t’ stop lovin’ ya. I’ve tried… It won’t stop.”

She fought the urge to cry, but he already knew before the tears even welled to fall. He caught them on his fingertips and wiped them away. His mind and heart were open to her, all but laid at her feet as he gave her comfort, gave her his body, and asked for so little in return. In that moment, he kissed her so softly that she was afraid she might be able to do anything to stay with him – but she knew it wouldn’t work.

“There are many different kinds of love,” she whispered.

“Hush, darlin’ … it’s okay. We can have this fer now, like ya wanted, whenever ya need. Lemme ‘pologize now though, if I get frustrated an’ short tempered; tha beast in me already feels yer ‘is, ‘specially with no other rivals touchin’ ya, an’ instinct can be a bitch. Havin’ ya is almost worse, ups tha stakes more’n I can cope with some days, but not havin’ ya … dunno if I can do that, neither. Ya gotta hear me, though. If ya go back t’ ‘im, or just find someone new, want ya t’ be happy; yer far more capable o’ actually managin’ that than me.”

“I want the same for you. If I can’t … if I can’t…” Jean fell against him in tears and he held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair.

“I don’t think happy is in tha cards fer me, darlin’. A man that don’t know ‘isself ain’t gonna know how t’ be happy. Guess I’ve just been hopin’ that if ya could want me, ya might love me and maybe then we could figure that out t’gether. Which is insane; nobody can fix a person but that person ‘isself. I been at it awhile now, though, an’ I ain’t gettin’ too far on my own.”

Jean kissed him and wiped at her face. “I asked Ororo once why she goes flying in thunderstorms; she said the chaos and power of it can soothe when no softer comforts can.” She moved away from him to lie on her stomach. She swallowed her tears as much as she could and gently took his wrist to move his hand where she wanted him.  _Logan, please … give this to both of us._

His hand cupped her ass, his thumb sweeping between to touch. She felt the instant lust sparking in his mind and emotions, but sadness was there, too.

“If ya can’t even say it in my head – maybe ya shouldn’t do this just cuz ya dug it outta my depths that I like doin’ it…”

“I want it, too. I told you – it’s something I can give you that I’ve never shared with anyone else.”

“Could face me, Jeannie … ain’t gotta be on yer belly.”

“I need it this way and I think you do, too. Be the beast for me, Logan. I want to be pinned and filled, I want to be what you need … in a way that I … can.” Looking back at him, she flushed with guilt. “It feels wrong to ask for more…”

“Ya wanna be in my head. Ain’t tha safest place at times, darlin’.”

“I need it – to feel truly close to you…”

Logan moved to lie between her legs, his fingers gentle as he exposed her. His tongue slipped out to lick and tease, slowly working inside.  _After everythin’, Jean darlin’, I’m still willin’ t’ give ya all I am. Wish it was everythin’ ya needed._

Guilt and shame warring with need and lust, she reached to connect and bind them. It was far more intimate than the feeling of him carefully opening her body to accept him. The pleasure began this time the moment he entered her, his weight pressing her down. She grabbed and twisted her hair out of the way when she sensed his impulse to bite. The fangs opened to hold the nape of her neck, to hold her still.

She was afraid to push further now, to enter his mind so deep that she felt herself as him, thrusting inside her. It was too addicting and if she allowed it too much, she might never be able to stop.

A thought lanced through her and she gasped.  _Logan … when I go deep, when I did that, could you … feel me?_

_Yeah, but I was me then. It was diff’rent when I was … tha animal…_

_No, you don’t understand. I reveled in that too, in the intensity of it._ He didn’t answer, but she felt the doubt and his self-loathing hurt her.  _I can show you,_  she offered.  _How you are in those moments and how it made me feel._  Seeking an understanding that words couldn’t give him, she showed him the memories … and the emotions – both hers, and his.

Confusion clouded his thoughts the moment it began. His mind didn’t close and it didn’t fight her, but as it often happened with him, it simply became awash with things she couldn’t read, touch, or understand. Stumbling into near-panic, she groped for his conscious mind and struck a tangle of damage, dark and clustered, and sharp as shining black thorns.

_Logan? Oh, God, I’ve hit something, a block or a trigger… Charles taught me that triggers are set by trauma, a breaking of the shields his mind has developed in order to function within the damage. The mental blocks that feel alien were done to him by the Weapon X project. In a desperate attempt to cope with it all, his subconscious formed it into symbols and a telepath can see them, even if that telepath can’t interpret them. If I hadn’t formed such an intimate connection, I would have been expelled from his mind by the sheer chaos of this. Charles is the only one who has been able to understand what he sees and use it to help heal him. What if I do more damage trying to get out?_

All around her, the black thorn hedge grew like a trap in some horrid fairy tale. Glinting inside it was metal – silver wire formed into webs that spanned the branches. Strange objects hung from the webs at intervals, swaying with menace like caches of living meat to feed unseen monsters.

 _Logan, please stop this…_  He didn’t respond and her sense of him grew clouded.  _Come back to me… Be who you are._ She heard the growl before she saw it – the pale shape of him crouched among the thorns.  _Yes, please come to me, I need you, and I’m … trying not to be afraid of this place…_

The beast slipped out, one of the strange hanging things nudging his shoulder as he passed under the wires. To her horror, she realized they were how the animal in him viewed the claymore mines of an All-American that were strung throughout his fractured and missing memories by the part of him that had once been a soldier – an aspect of him she had never met.

The sound he made as he reached her was like a wolf reassuring a pup as she felt his consciousness sink into a deeper, older layer of self. As it did, the nightmarish thorns and wires faded into a simple dark forest.

Jean’s astral form in his mind knelt to greet him. He sniffed her and then rubbed his head against her shoulder.

 _Who am I?_ Jean held her breath.

_Mate…_

Moving slowly, she lowered her body to offer herself. She couldn’t feel either of them in the physical world, but hoped this could help her bring him back to himself. With a hungry growl, he mounted her from behind.

Fear snaked into lust, but it didn’t sour the pleasure, it intensified it. All at once, she couldn’t stop herself. As gently as she could, she followed the connection deeper and what she found there was savage, vicious, with too limited a self-awareness to be called cruel. It did not encompass sentiment beyond survival – to eat, drink, find shelter … to fight and protect, and to mate… The fear wavered with the knowledge that the beast was a natural, if deadly, creature and far less terrifying than the alien defenses of his wounded mind.

_Why should I feel afraid of this entity? To him, I am mate, and he will protect his mate, even from himself._

She sifted through the myriad emotions and sensations of their bonded selves and found nothing but heat, a blinding heat that burned through her. When terror erupted, it wasn’t fear of him. Eclipsing his savagery, covering it in shadows, wings of fire were spreading through her soul. It set the forest ablaze, threatening to burn the world to ashes. Her skin burst in the heat and began to melt at the sound of a piercing timeless shriek of defiant rage.

~ ~ ~

Jean woke out of the trance with a start. Still on top of her, Logan twitched and cried out, waking from the beast’s influence the moment he came inside her. With a loud ~snikt~ in her ears, the claws burst out to stab the mattress on either side of her. She winced, confused and afraid.

“Fuck…” His voice was low with fear. “Jean…” ~Snakt~. He put his hands down by the holes he’d cut and carefully withdrew from her body. Pushing himself up to sit next to her in a slump, his hands balled into fists in his lap. All of his hackles were standing up. His head lowered, the haunted blue eyes watching her through his disshevelled black hair.

 _What was that? He felt it, too._ The moment she sat up, she reached out to touch his knee. “Logan? Are you … okay?”

He almost looked drunk. Struggling to regain control of himself, he scrubbed his face with his palms before he nodded. “Did I lose it? Yer not hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” she whispered, “only a little rattled because I messed up. Logan, I’m so sorry. I wanted to show you a memory through our mental link, to prove I’m not afraid of your animal side. You … sort of went away and he was here, but that was my fault, I was remembering how intense it was to be with him and … I guess he heard me.”

“Tha damn beast within… Aw, hellfire. All I remember is blankin’ out in tha middle.” He shook his head as if to clear it and then froze. “Beast.”

“Yes, I know. It’s –” She startled when his hand shot out to cover her mouth.

Logan didn’t move. Slowly, she realized he was listening. She cast out a telepathic net and almost swallowed her tongue. Hank was climbing up the stairs and heading for the door. Her eyes widened when she realized she hadn’t locked it when she came in. Her telekinesis shot out and turned the latch before he reached the landing.

A soft knock sounded. “Logan? Sorry to disturb you, noticed your light was on; my batch of tykes are tucked in and Charles called, they’ll be home within the hour. If you don’t mind, keep an ear out? I’m heading down to the lab. Jean must have gone to sleep.”

Logan waited a breath and then called out, “Got it, Hank.”

“Excellent. Good night, my friend.”

Jean tracked him nearly to the lab long after Logan removed his hand, but neither of them spoke until she wilted in relief. “I have to go, I have to shower.”

“What a clusterfuck that coulda been, but – no harm, no foul. Are ya sure yer awright? Poppin’ claws at yer head sure tha fuck ain’t tha way t’ get ya t’ stop bein’ afraid o’ me.”

“I’m okay, I promise. I fell into one of your weird mental landscapes and then it meshed with … I guess what was a nightmare of mine. They blended…”

“So we both ended up in some combined freakshow nightmare trance. Not my first choice fer an excitin’ new date activity t’ share. When did it start?”

“Well, in the middle, while we were…” She ignored his raised eyebrow. “You were triggered by what I tried to show you. I ended up lost in the deep end of your trauma and I wasn’t sure how to get out.”

“So that’s where tha fear scent came from,” he muttered. When she moved to get up, he caught her wrist. “I know ya gotta go. Kiss me an’ tell me ya won’t call it quits cuz o’ tha bloody mess in my head.”

“I won’t,” she whispered. “It was my fault. I need to stop going on safari in your head. I’m still dealing with my problems and I just don’t have the same level of skills as Charles for coping with yours.”

“Ya didn’t hurt me.”

Jean sighed. “I am hurting you. I have no business doing this, any of this.”

“I don’t care, Jeannie; I need ya too much an’ it’s my choice t’ be here, t’ be whatever ya need.”

He pulled her gently closer by the wrist he still held and kissed her as if he was trying to give her his soul in the soft and seeking intimate touch. It made her want to stay, even as she heard his fearful thought that she probably wanted to run away from him entirely after all that she had seen. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, that the thing she wanted to run from was herself.

~ ~ ~

Throughout the following days, she felt Logan’s irritation and frustration as they began to smolder. Scott was staying home more on Charles’s insistence, to help alongside him as they dealt with her problems with the erratic Phoenix Force.

It had inspired her to try to talk with her husband more, though she still fell into Logan’s arms once when need and opportunity collided. She kept her distance from him around the others. She didn’t intend to be cold to him at those times, but it was confusing to feel all that she was feeling and not mess up and blow it around Charles, Emma, or even one of their telepathic students. Ororo and Hank had already commented on how preoccupied she’d become.

Finally, in self-defense, she stopped trying to make time to be with him. It hurt, but she knew a choice was coming – if she didn’t start trying to save her marriage, there would be nothing left to save.

The memories of what they’d done together burned her and it was difficult not to lead Logan on when he could scent her arousal no matter what she did.

Once, he’d baldly suggested a practice session in the Danger Room in front of Warren and Jubilee. Of course, he could pull off a perfect nonchalant air, but she had nearly babbled nervously as she declined the offer. After that, she just tried not to be alone with him at all.

Walking to the kitchen one morning, she stopped when she heard Logan’s voice in the room. Ororo was there too, with Jubilee, their backs to the hallway. Jean moved to stand near the doorway, where only Logan could see her and listened as Ororo spoke.

“I’m sorry, Logan. It was on the news yesterday while you were out. I asked Emma to confirm that it was your friend, and what her status might be after the attack.”

“What’d she say, ‘Ro?”

“It was Rooke. Chicago is buzzing these days with the news that Doctor Octavius is in the city. Someone had snapped a photo of him and sold it to a news station, and the young woman he was carrying off was Rooke. Emma said she hasn’t been admitted to any hospital in the area, and the mind she sensed near the girl could only be Octavius.”

“Crap, Wolvie – what if he really hurt her bad? I want to come with you!”

“No, Jubilation – I ain’t riskin’ ya ‘round that crackpot. I’m goin’ out there alone.” He caught Jean’s eye and added, “‘Sides, stayin’ here’s drivin’ me nuts. Gotta chance t’ do some carvin’ on a guy who both deserves it an’ can take it – that’s gettin’ rare these days.”

Ororo’s back stiffened as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This man is insane, Logan. Perhaps I could –”

“Don’t start, Stormy. Tell ya what, ya wanna help? Rip tha jet outta Slim’s greedy paws an’ drop me an’ tha scoot off at O’Hare; faster I get there, faster I can find Rooke.”

“Very well,” Ororo replied, “but keep in mind that Doctor Octavius can be a dangerous opponent – even for you. This girl has many abilities and strengths; she would be quite difficult to kill. If he has managed to seriously injure her –”

Logan’s hands fisted, the shining tips of his claws tearing the skin between the knuckles. “Gonna slice tha bastard int’ high-tech sushi if she ain’t in one piece!”

“Can I at least ride in the jet over there, if I stay with Storm?”

“Said no, Jubes.”

Crestfallen and worried, the girl knew it wouldn’t help to argue further. Unafraid of his ire, Jubilee slipped between his fists and hugged him fiercely. “Be careful, ‘kay, Wolvie, and bring Rooke back if you can? When will you be back?”

Without looking away from Jean, he replied, “Dunno – but don’t hold yer breath.”

~ ~ ~

Jean sat in her chair in the control booth, her fingers lax on the board. Through the glass, Rogue was running a junior class through a snow-swept plain.

Mindee, one of the more gifted young telepaths, found the enemy mutant, but Jean had tuned out as the program wrapped, forgetting to end it. Staring at the distant black mouth of the mountain cave, her thoughts had drifted far away.

Abruptly, the substitute teacher flew up to the control booth window and knocked on it with a fist. “Earth ta Phoenix – wake up in there, sugah, we’re all done down here. Ah’m ready ta ditch rug rat duty, too.”

Shaking her head, Jean tried to smile. “Sorry, Rogue.” She began flipping switches and typing in codes. The room returned to normal and the outer door unsealed.

As the students filed out, their teacher came up in the elevator. “Ah’m gonna go get lunch with Remy at Harry’s Hideout – wanna come along?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay – thanks, but ... you two should be alone. Three’s a crowd, right?”

“It’s lunch, Jean – don’ make it a romantic getaway.”

“I was going to grab something in the kitchen and work that bug out of the program you found this morning.”

“Fine, sugah, fine – jus’ don’ be ‘all work, no play’ forever, huh?”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

Shaking her head, Rogue turned and entered the elevator. “Startin’ ta worry, sugah – you gotta take care of yourself a tad ‘stead of tryin’ ta do everythin’ for everybody, all th’ time.”

Jean nodded and smiled until the elevator doors shut. Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes.

_Scott is still distant, unless he’s working with Charles to ‘fix’ me. Logan’s been gone over two weeks now – seriously angry with me when he left, too. How did I get myself into this mess?_

Rising, she began to shut the session down. When she left, she didn’t bother going to the kitchen. Heading for her bed, intending on taking a nap, she veered at the top of the stairs and entered Logan’s room instead.

The bathroom and closet doors were open and she slowly wandered into the bathroom, her fingers lightly brushing over his things. The medicine chest was open too, so she reached out to close it, avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

_Little differences say a lot, like no pill bottles in the medicine chest – not even aspirin, and no band-aids in sight._

She picked up the dark amber glass bottle of Fahrenheit on the counter. A designer Christian Dior cologne, it was exactly the sort of thing he would never get for himself. It had been a Christmas present she’d given him last year. Spraying a bit of it into the air, she breathed in the refreshing woody scent of balsam, honeysuckle, and sandalwood.

Setting the bottle down, her fingers brushed over a black leather case, its zippered top open.

 _A shaving kit? For those rare moments when he bothers to get the stubble off his chin?_ Now and then, he’d scrape off the familiar mutton chop sideburns and let a goatee grow, but Jean had gotten used to the sideburns.  _It never takes them long to grow back, at least._   _Everything else in here is exactly the sort of things a tough guy would have around – bare bones efficiency, zero effort on décor._ Smiling, she whispered, “Scott, Remy, and Warren have almost as many hair products and styling tools as I do, but not this one...”

Drifting into the wide walk-in closet, her hands stroked down hanging sleeves and jangled heavy belt buckles on their row of hooks. Along the back, a black tux was hanging up, still in the clear plastic from their local dry cleaners. Most of the clothes, with the exception of the uniform items, were biker leathers, jeans, and t-shirts.

Cowboy boots and heavy motorcycle boots were largely scattered on the floor, instead of sitting on the wooden shoe shelf below the hanging clothes. Here and there, a crumpled shirt, pair of worn jeans, or cotton boxers lay forgotten, too.

Picking up one of the shirts, she carried it with her out into the bedroom and started looking over the bookcases. They were stuffed with an eclectic array of volumes, but most of the books were classics and collections of poetry.

Jean ran her fingers over hardcover spines of Thoreau, Poe, Coleridge, Hemmingway, Dickens, Wilde, Twain, Eliot, and Orwell. Below them, were Shakespeare, the Brontë sisters, Harper Lee, and Jane Austen. She smiled to notice Moliere, Hawthorne, Dante, Dumas, and even Tolkien.

“Everyone who ever called you an animal should take a peek at your library,” she muttered. “There isn’t even a TV or computer in this room, and you’ve never bothered with a phone. Come home, Logan. I want to have a talk with you about  _Hamlet_  and  _To Kill a Mockingbird_. I want to know that side of you and I’m … sorry I never noticed it, years ago.”

Sighing, she took his shirt over to the rumpled bed. Lying down on it with her boots hanging off the edge, she balled the shirt in her fist at her chest and closed her eyes. Exhaustion crept into her limbs, and she let the faded scent of him from the shirt lure her into dreams of a cavern under snow.

*****************************************************************

Bowing his head for five minutes of peace before the door to the house slammed open and launched Jubilee at him, Logan took a deep breath. Chicago had been rough – but not in the way they all expected.

He heard her footsteps, and then the door. Without looking up, he got off of the Harley and set it on its kickstand.

“Wolvie! What happened?” She grabbed him in a running hug that almost rocked him back a step. Just as quickly, she released him and began her rapid-fire questioning. “You didn’t bring Rooke home with you? Is she okay? Tell me everything, huh? Spill, dude – inquiring minds want to know!”

“Long story, no, I didn’t, she’s alive, an’ can’t it wait, darlin’? I’m beat.”

“Storm said you had her drop you off in Genosha! That’s a big jump from Chicago, you know. Was Rooke in Genosha?”

“She went there, yeah. Turns out, Doc Ock brought ‘er home after she was hurt. I found that outta bit late, though, after I startin’ whalin’ on tha man.”

“Wait – he’s not the one who hurt her?”

“Nope. Magneto did. She went t’ Genosha t’ kick ‘is ass, but it didn’t quite go tha way she planned.”

“But –”

“Later, darlin’, okay? Do me a favor – tell Stormy an’ Chuck I’m home. I gotta grab some rack. Wake me up fer breakfast.”

“It’s lunchtime.”

“All tha better fer me.”

He almost groaned at the scent that was on his door when he reached his room. Stifling a sigh, he opened the door and closed it behind him, quietly turning the lock. For a moment, he just watched her as she slept on his bed in her clothes, clutching one of his t-shirts in her hand.

Moving slowly to the side of the bed, he yanked his boots off and set them by the bookcases. Jean didn’t wake when he sat on the bed, so he just stretched out beside her on his back without touching her and closed his eyes. He wasn’t quite asleep when she stirred.

“Logan,” she whispered, her hand settling on his chest. She didn’t ask any questions, and her scent was warm and inviting.

Without opening his eyes, he asked, “Wanna fresher shirt? Been in this one long ‘nuff t’ work up a good sweat. One ya got’s gone stale.”

He heard her toss the balled-up shirt at his boots, felt her shift and lean on her hands over him.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “I’m sorry for how I behaved … ignoring and avoiding, pushing you away – it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it will.” When her lips bushed his, he allowed the kiss, but responded to it sluggishly, half asleep.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll live, darlin’ – just wiped out. If ya wanna get back t’ that nap, yer welcome t’ stay, but I ain’t gonna be much good t’ ya right now.”

The softness of her lips on his forehead was a balm on his flagging spirit. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“‘Preciate it, Jeannie.” He rolled to his stomach when she got up. Abusing the pillow until it fit his face just right, he sighed into it.

“When you feel up to it...”

“Yeah?”

“Meet me in the Danger Room?”

“Be there with bells on, darlin’ – t’morrow, though.”

“Sleep well...”

As exhausted as he was, he’d feared sleep might be elusive – but her sweet scent mixed with the smell of lavender and rose covered the bed and pillow, and breathing it in was as effective as the cherry blossoms incense had ever been.

~ ~ ~

The Danger Room was full of snow and howls in the freezing wind, but the bleak landscape was empty and the door leading to it was sealed.

Inside the mountain in a large cavern, Logan lay flat on his back on bare rock near the crackling flames. Pleasure fired every nerve, making him feel elated, overwhelmed, and almost drunk at once. His eyes fluttered closed and then flew open again, not wanting to miss a moment of it.

 _I feel like_ _a college student_ _cramming for finals,_  Jean’s mind voice told him. Considering what her mouth was doing, speech was impossible.

Logan snorted. “Ya ain’t gotta try t’ put tha whole thing in at once.”

_No, not that. I meant that it’s nerve-wracking, wondering if I’m doing it right, trying to please you under pressure..._

“No complaints, Jeannie, an’ no pressure,” he answered, trying to remember how to breathe.

The sight of his cock disappearing into her hot mouth, even part of it, was something to savor for a lifetime. Her hand tried to make up for what her mouth couldn’t handle and he didn’t think he’d care if he died just then.

_You can’t fool me; most of the carnal flotsam in your mind trumps anything I’ve ever done. A few of your ladies outshine me by a long shot, too. Not to mention some of those tricks you learned in the Shi’ar Empire. Who had time to do that with everything that we had going on there_ _?_

“There’s always time fer that. Don’t worry ‘bout skills, that comes with time an’ practice, darlin’. Happy t’ be yer guinea pig fer that, though.” When she faltered, trying not to let him know that she was struggling not to choke, he decided to rescue her pride. Lifting his hand to her, he whispered, “C’mon up here, yer damn good at that.”

Her mouth left him, but then she straddled his hips and that was just fine, too. His sharp indrawn breath was loud around them when her body took his inside it. Her hands pressed down on his chest.

Logan settled his fingers on her ankles on either side of him and began gently rubbing the outer side of them, next to her Achilles tendons, slightly above the heel.

“Oh, I feel like my jaw might fall off. Sorry I’m not –” She stopped short when the effect of his touch hit her. “God, Logan – how do you do that?”

Chuckling, he enjoyed watching her as he worked the pressure points, knowing from recent and murky past experience that it would prolong and elevate her stimulation.

“Can’t give out all my secrets, can I? Where’s tha fun in that? Jean, darlin’, how’d ya manage t’ be married so long an’ ain’t done that before? Cyke too vanilla t’ blow, or do ya just not like it? No crime if ya don’t, ya know. I won’t pine fer ya any less, I swear.”

“He’s ... repressed. I’ll leave it at that, since I know you don’t like to discuss him.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“It’s amazing to feel what that does to you, even though it’s like I’m competing with every wet dream that lurks in your brain.”

“Don’t look in there, then. Can’t chase ‘em out – they live there.”

“Even your lady Mariko knew more than me, in spite of being proper in ways I could never be. That thing she did, sitting like this? Do you know how she did that?”

“Well, I ain’t got one o’ those, but as far as I can grasp it from tha receivin’ end, ya just contract an’ relax yer muscles in there while yer at it. Play with it ‘til ya learn a rhythm ya like, watch fer what yer partner likes. Ya got that telepathic advantage, so…”

“So … like this?”

Logan sucked in a breath and couldn’t stop his body from shivering. “Oh fuck, Jeannie…”

“I guess so.” She leaned down and kissed his open mouth. “I want to learn things. What was that you told your combat students yesterday? ‘You have all the equipment – you just need to learn how to use it to the best advantage to win’?”

“What’re ya tryin’ t’ win?”

“Your heart?”

“Ya already got that. C’mon, darlin’, talk t’ me – why tha worryin’?”

“It’s … stupid. You’ll think I’m some sort of arrogant jerk.”

“Hey, it’s me, tha guy that worships ya, arrogant or not. Spill it.”

“You have me on a pedestal. When I see and feel some of the things you’ve done, things done to you, what you like – I’m not that girl and I don’t know how to be. I think maybe I’d like to be … but I don’t know how and I’m … embarrassed to try.”

“Why?”

She stopped moving and took in his soft and loving regard, his concern and desire for her. It gave her courage, even as she flushed with shame. “I’m used to being good at things. I can tell my students it takes time and practice to learn new things, but when it comes to me … I want to be good right away and I usually … am. This is one area of my life that I’ve had very little practice with. I don’t want to fall off of your expectations of me and have you thinking that I’m –”

“Jeannie, stop. Listen, okay? I love ya fer who an’ what ya are an’ I ain’t got expectations right now, or at least I’m tryin’ t’ put tha brakes on what I want, fer yer sake. If ya wanna learn some tricks just cuz ya wanna know ‘em, happy t’ teach ya, happy t’ play practice dummy. Thing is, ya can’t disappoint me, even if ya never lemme call ya mine. I accept an’ own tha pedestal thing in general, maybe I do need t’ work on that – but yer not just a woman that hasn’t learned fancy tricks. Yer tha woman I love.”

She smiled through gathering tears, leaned down and kissed him. “But what if –”

Running a hand up her side, he used it to protect her when he abruptly moved and rolled her beneath him. She grabbed her wadded up jacket to use as a pillow. Abruptly, he missed the furs they had worn in these caves, dreading pulling on the uniform leather pants again. Grinning at her gasp, he began applying his best piston motion to stop her nervous chatter. He knew he could keep it up longer than she could take it, and reveled a moment in the fact that she picked that thought up, too.

“The session is timed, Tarzan,” she teased.

“Fuckin’ syllabus.”

“You said it, not me.”

He kissed her as he thrust, burying his face in her hair so he could nip at her throat with his fangs. It never took long after that, for either of them. He let his roar shake very convincing dust off of the illusory ceiling of the cavern as his ejaculate fired, the bone-deep heat of it threatening to turn him into mush.

Backing off and out of her, he settled back on his heels, panting, and watched her. When her knees rose, bracketing his hips, he rested his palms on them, a soft smile wandering onto his lips.

“Why do you love me?”

“What? Why’s it matter t’ ya?”

“Logan...”

He sighed. “Figured ya wouldn’t wanna hear it.”

“Heavens, maybe I don’t. Is it that bad?”

“I’ve pondered it, Jeannie, mostly while tryin’ t’ be rid o’ it. T’ be honest, I ain’t gotta fuckin’ clue. Sure, yer beautiful, smart, all that – a bit repressed –”

“Hey, at least I try.”

“Not judgin’, just sayin’.” His smirk faded as he tried to seriously articulate an answer. “Fact is, I’ve had a lot o’ partners, loved some amazin’ women – but most o’ ‘em are dead. Damned if I know, maybe it’s tha way ya put Sabretooth in ‘is place.”

“Why on earth would that attract you to me?”

“Cuz it means maybe he couldn’t come ‘round an’ slaughter ya fer tha ugly fun o’ it, that’s why. Hell, Deathstrike, tha Reavers – I’d want popcorn, but I’d love t’ see ‘em try t’ take ya on. Call it a weird sense o’ security ... I know ya can handle yerself, whatever comes down over yer pretty head.”

“I’ll let the sexist cutesy comment slide. This started way before I smacked Sabretooth with a TK fist, though.”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe tha real reason is lost up here somewhere.” One hand lifted, his finger tapping his temple. “Doesn’t matter, really.”

“You don’t want to know why? I probably analyze things too much about myself, though, so I’m surprised when others don’t.

“I don’t question it, Jeannie. It just is.” He smiled again to relieve the worried look on her face. “An’ yeah, ya analyze stuff too damn much.”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be the king of living in the now.”

He laughed, but it was short and bitter. “Shit, I live in tha past more’n anyone. Just can’t remember much o’ it in any kind o’ sensible order. Tha beast inside ... he lives in tha now, not me.”

“Our ‘now’ is about to come and get us. Help me up?”

Logan got to his feet and gave her a hand, pulling her against him. She was three inches taller, but he’d never given a damn. She was perfect, flaws and all.

“We have to get out of here and now you’re thinking about my flaws? I should make you list them before I go to Hong Kong so I don’t obsess about what you think they are for the entire trip.”

“My brain is a murky place, Red, proceed at yer own risk. Why do ya hafta fetch this one personally?”

“Afraid you’ll miss me?”

He growled softly, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck. One hand wandered, the fingers brushing her breast. Her hand caught it and held it still.

“Admit it, yer goin’ so ya can miss this stupid Open Day.”

“No, though the thought occurred to me. I support the Open Day, but I still can’t be there for it. Sorry.”

“No yer not – yer enjoyin’ my misery.”

“You’ll survive it, I’m sure everyone will. What could be so bad?”

“‘Sides more wet-behind-tha-ears kids runnin’ ragged than we already got?”

Smiling, Jean lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the fingers. “We need to get dressed, Professor Logan. Sex Ed is over – for now. Do I have any homework?”

“Work on yer kegel exercises, an’ recite ‘I like anal sex’ twenty times a day, in tha mirror.”

Jean laughed. “I may have to settle for a B+. Can’t I enjoy doing it while retaining my lady-like squeamishness over saying it?”

“Sure. Then again, if ya keep fuckin’ me, I bet I’d let ya slide on most o’ tha class rules.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He crushed her to him once more before she could slip away, before they were back out there, where they had to pretend, where he couldn’t touch her. He kissed her, trying to lure her soul to him with his mouth, so she wouldn’t go, wouldn’t leave him.

She clung to him, too, though she always denied it. Yet try as she might, her scent couldn’t lie to him and her body couldn’t hide its hunger for his.

 

*****************************************************************

 **Author’s Note / Spoiler Warning:**  This is where the events from the New X-Men series, “Riot at Xavier’s” (# 135 – 138) occur. After this point, spoilers lurk...   For those who don’t care about that, all you need to know is that the X-Men put down the rioters in short order, though instigator Quentin Quire halted Logan with shocking ease by plunging him into one of his tormenting circular half-memories. In defeating Quire, one of the young telepathic Cuckoo sisters, Sophie, died in the fight. The surviving sisters had a serious mad on for their teacher Emma Frost, and to get some payback, they told Jean Grey about the psychic affair Emma was having with her husband, Scott Summers. Jean reamed Emma’s mind over this to prove some ugly facts (and discovered that Emma truly loves Scott), and then Jean had it out with Scott, who took off to figure out the mess in his life. In New X-Men “Murder at the Mansion” (# 139 – 141) Emma is shot in her diamond form and shatters. To solve the murder, Jean uses her Phoenix Force to resurrect Emma, discovering that Esme Cuckcoo is the murderer, but Esme had already escaped.

My story resumes following the aftermath of the riot, Emma’s return to life, and Jean’s fallout over the crumbling mess of her marriage. Graduation for that year is over, and Xavier has announced that he will be stepping down as headmaster of the school. School closes for the summer, and my tale resumes... - AnonGrimm ( _@MET_Fic)_

*****************************************************************

 

Jean slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares. Images flashed in her thoughts, some real, some not – or not yet. Shifting in the murk of her subconscious, some of the images bore the stench of prophesy.

One thing was real: Emma Frost reduced to a shining pile of diamond fragments, shot by a student under the control of Esme Cuckcoo. As the nightmares continued, the fire of the Phoenix swept up the glittering pieces of diamond and made a woman from them – a woman who loved her husband. Rage erupted and the fire burned, melting the woman’s pale flesh.

The fire spread, consuming the thinning leaves of the trees, their blackened branches a reflection of her loss, promising more desolation to come.

Moaning and speaking in her sleep, she was bathed in sweat in a vast bed – alone. “No, can’t be ... can’t be true, they’re lying! Scott!”

Sitting bolt upright with her hands over her lips, Jean felt tears slip down her cheeks. The bedroom was dark, she was alone. Or was she? Afraid, she stared into the darkness.

“Logan?”

“Jean.”

Gasping, she turned and found him in the far corner, half hidden by the curtains near the window. Through the glass, the trees were full of dark and secretive green, unharmed by her fire.

“Why are you here?”

“Heard ya thrashin’, came t’ check on ya.”

“Did you know? Emma and my husband ... did you?”

“Never knew – did it in their heads, so no scent. Thought Emma was actin’ strange here an’ there, but she’s strange a lot. She told me, after ya got done with ‘er. Fer what it’s worth, I believe ‘er. Ya got yer own, though, didn’t ya? Mind reamin’ tha girl, showin’ ‘er all ‘er ugly bits? Didn’t make ya feel better, did it?”

“I saved her worthless life, didn’t I?”

“Not fer ‘er sake – not sure that counts.”

“I didn’t ask you to pass judgment on me.”

“Wasn’t judgin’ ya. I see Cyke left; place barely smells like ‘im now.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

He came forward to the foot of the bed she had shared with Scott for so long. To her shock, he was standing there naked.

“What are you doing?”

“Middle o’ yer thrashin’, it hit ya – yer hungry, Jeannie.”

“If someone saw, if anyone found out –”

“Ain’t a soul can see me when I don’t want ‘em t’ – not even a telepath. Ya know that.” Logan moved again, coming around to the side of the bed, the side that wasn’t a rumpled mess. He set a knee down on the white sheets, his thick erection ready. “Ya can deny me, but ya can’t deny yer own wants.”

“I can’t – I can’t do it here, in our bed.”

“Ya got no ‘our’ anymore. He left. Ya made it easy fer ‘im t’ leave.”

“He betrayed me!”

“Ya betrayed ‘im first – with me.”

“Logan, no.”

“Think that word works anymore?”

He touched her, fingertips on her throat – that was all it took. They fell together, his weight pressing her down, his mouth on her breast.

“Make it rough.”

“No.”

“Please ... please ... I need...” She thrashed under him, trying to throw him off.

With a low growl, he grabbed her wrists over her head, the other hand tearing the sheets away from her. She fought and he forced her, his fangs biting into the side of her throat when he pushed himself inside her tense and struggling body.

~ ~ ~

Jean opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of orange juice.

“Grab me a beer, would ya, Red?”

She looked at him and saw everything that had happened in the night flash through her mind’s eye. Logan’s face betrayed nothing. She opened her mouth to speak, but then Ororo and Hank entered the room.

A smile on his blue-furred face, Hank reached in and got the beer, handing it to Logan. “You’re going to ruin all of those Global Warming statistics, Jean.”

“What?” She flinched when Hank took the refrigerator door out of her hand and closed it. “A little early for beer, isn’t it?” she asked Logan, ignoring the others.

“Had a rough ... week – figure I earned it.”

“I’m not sure why we have alcohol in a school,” Jean retorted.

“School’s out. Nobody underage or over ever risks it, anyhow. Students would rather take on Apocalypse than snag one o’ my brews; they know what happened t’ tha last one that tried it.”

“Any more luck sorting out what Quire did to you during the riot, Logan?” Ororo asked.

“Nope. Put my brain on some sorta loop, stuck on one thought, a thought I can’t even remember. Froze me good. Ain’t gonna miss that li’l shit, ‘Ro.”

Hank started up some coffee. “Maybe you could help him sort it out, Jean?”

“Yeah, Jeannie – maybe in tha Danger Room later.”

“Perhaps you should ask Charles; I have quite enough to sort out of my own, thank you.” Glaring at him, she swept out of the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

Logan stood in the howling wind beside the cavern wall, his boots crunching in the snow. “Gettin’ tired o’ this hot an’ cold shit, Red.”

“That never stops you from doing it.” To prove it, she kissed him, roughly, trying to push him back against the stone.

He turned her, the loud ~snikt~ ringing in her ears as he punched the claws into the rock beside her head with a growl. “If ya want it, get it yerself.”

Opening his belt and zipper, she drew out what she needed and watched it grow harder as she fumbled to hike up her dress. The claws were yanked out of the rock and stuck with exhilarating speed between her trembling skin and damp cotton panties. The cloth fell in pieces, one of the claws shearing away a few red hairs.

He grabbed her hips, pulled them forward, and shoved it in. Her head struck the stone when his weight pushed her back into it, but she didn’t care. Her legs began to tremble as his thrusts went on and on.

~ ~ ~

The corridor was empty. Logan came out of the sitting room and started to pass her, stopping at the scent of her desire.

“No. Damn it, Logan, if you touch me, I’ll break you.”

“Say no t’ me again, Red, an’ it’ll be fer keeps.”

~ ~ ~

“Do it, Logan, harder ... yes...”

Her knees were bruising on the floor of the control booth, his arms around her and one hand squeezing her breast through her shirt from underneath.

He hadn’t said a word when he entered the booth. She had turned away from the windows, where Jubilee was running a solo practice session in the Danger Room below. One look had passed between them, and then she had gone down to the floor on all-fours.

It was fast and fierce, his fangs in his own arm again to stifle his cry of release. Jean let her cries echo in the room, hoping the firecrackers the young mutant was exploding would cover the sounds.

“Hey, Jean-ster, how about them pafs, huh? Jean?”

On her knees, she smoothed her hair back into place as Logan stood behind her. Struggling to her feet as she put her pants back together, she stepped forward, sure that Jubilee could only see her from the waist up.

“Impressive, Jubilee – now let’s up the threat level, okay?”

“Bit late fer that, Red,” Logan whispered.

She whirled to look at him, but the doors had already slid shut.

~ ~ ~

Dinner was over and the others had left, carrying the last of the plates into the kitchen. Jean could feel the heat of Logan’s skin as he passed her chair, sensed his thoughts as he lifted his hands to grasp her shoulders.

“Don’t. Not now.”

“When? Been too long, Jeannie.”

“I said no.”

He was silent as she stood, turned her back, and left him standing there.

~ ~ ~

Jean stood in the snow, her scans offering the last proof that the frozen landscape was empty. “Where the hell are you?” Biting her lower lip for a second, she sighed and then called out, “Professor Grey-Summers, termination code 00X2, execute.”

The Danger Room turned hard and gray around her, as empty as the snow had been and just as cold.

*****************************************************************

Logan chomped down on the cigar. “Don’t give up now, bub; I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

The bloody and bruised man in the biker jacket glared, wiping a smear of red on his sleeve from his wet beard. He and his buddy behind Logan were the last men standing, as their unconscious friends littered the floor of the seedy bar.

Ranged around the three-way standoff, more bikers from a rival club laughed and shouted insults. The two men couldn’t be seen as weak, or leave their brothers behind. Logan smiled as he saw the mix of fear, hate, and desperation cloud the bloodshot dark eyes of the man in front of him. The other one was grabbing up a chair by the pool table.

When the bearded biker rushed in with a switchblade, Logan punched his wrist, sending the knife flying. Two more hits with adamantium-laced fists, and the huge man went down in a heap.

The bell over the door sounded, jangling harshly over the laughter and thumping jukebox. All eyes turned to the door, but Logan didn’t need to look; he growled as his nose told him who was there.

With a grunt and heave that would have telegraphed his attack to a deaf man, the last assailant with the chair hoisted it to swing it at his broad back, but Jean’s power grabbed it and made it strike him in the head. She’d managed it so fast that the others probably thought he’d done it to himself when the chair slipped out of his bloody hands.

A cheer went up as the poor slob fell and a mug of beer was thrust into Logan’s hand almost before he could step back from the carnage.

“That Breed scum didn’t know what hit ‘em,” Bull said behind him. “Man, you should ride with us. You want a mama?”

Glancing around at the rough women in the bar, all of them looking eagerly back at him, he smiled as he turned to face his newest bar buddy. “‘Preciate that, but my ol’ lady takes good care o’ me. Thanks fer lendin’ a fist, Bull.”

“She’s a hot damn thing, for sure, you bastard.” He offered his hand and Logan shook it. “Me and my brothers are happy to call you one of our own, Logan. You got a problem in Jersey, you call on the Warlocks.”

“I’ll do that.” Police sirens cut short the rest of the conversation. “Go on, Bull – I’m gonna finish my beer. No cop will believe I dropped these guys alone; I plan t’ say yer boys did it.”

Bull laughed. “Just makes us look good.”

Enduring an impressive slap on the back, he watched them step over and sometimes on their rivals on the way out to their motorcycles. Several of them gave Jean appraising looks as she moved out of their way, but none of them touched or spoke to her. When they roared away, only his scoot was left in front of the bar.

“Your ‘old lady’?” Jean asked.

“Means I gotta claim on ya, yer not a communal toy. Keeps ‘em from tryin’ anythin’ stupid.”

“I don’t need protection from them.”

“They needed protection from ya, darlin’.”

Logan returned to the bar where the grateful bartender put a bottle of single malt in front of him without a word.

Jean crossed the floor, carefully picking her way through the men who had tried to harass him. The jukebox, clearly cursed, began to play a haunting Bruce Hornsby and the Range song, called  _Mandolin Rain_.

The song came and went  
like the times that we spent  
hiding out from the rain  
under the carnival tent  
I laughed and she’d smile  
It would last for a while  
You don’t know what you got  
till you lose it all again

Listen to the mandolin rain  
Listen to the music on the lake  
Listen to my heart break  
every time she runs away  
Listen to the banjo wind  
Sad song drifting low  
Listen to the tears roll  
Down my face as she turns to go

A cool evening dance  
listen to the bluegrass band, takes the chill  
from the air till they play the last song  
I’ll do my time, oh  
keeping you off my mind  
but there’s moments that I find  
I’m not feeling so strong…

Breaking the silence between them, Jean asked, “So should I have let the thug hit you with a chair?”

“Didn’t need ya t’ save me, Red.”

“I wasn’t saving you; I was saving him.”

Logan couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips, but the whiskey and beer chaser wiped it off a moment later.

“I tracked you to New York. I always knew you kept some strange company, but Frank Castle?”

“Returnin’ somethin’ Rooke ‘borrowed’ from ‘im an’ ‘is tech buddy; that don’t make us friends.”

“New Jersey was a surprise.”

Logan shrugged. “It was a change o’ scene.”

Looking around at the unconscious bloody men, she sighed. “I redirected the police. They’ll realize their mistake after we have a chance to talk.”

“Nothin’ left t’ say.” Downing the beer, he left his bar stool and carried the whiskey bottle with him over to the jukebox. As he went, the final strains of the ballad about loss and heartbreak dogged his steps.

The boat’s steaming in  
I watch the sidewheel spin  
and I think about her when  
I hear that whistle blow  
I can’t change my mind, oh  
I knew all the time that she’d go  
but that’s a choice I made long ago…

Rummaging through his surface thoughts, Jean said, “I didn’t come here to say goodbye. Will you talk with me?”

“Yer gonna do most o’ tha talkin’ Jeannie, but I’ll listen.”

Logan fished quarters out of his jeans pocket, dropped the coins in and pressed buttons. Staring into the glass front as the discs inside it whirred and flashed, he leaned one palm on the edge of the machine as a Little Feat classic covered by Outlaw Jim and the Whiskey Benders filled the small room. Sung with a slow, old pain, he let Jim’s rough voice wash over him. The song was  _Willin’_ , cranked to ten.

I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow  
and I’m drunk and dirty, don’t ya know  
I’m still willin’  
and I’m out on the road late at night  
and I see my pretty little Alice in every headlight  
Alice, Dallas Alice

I’ve been from Tucson to Tucumcari  
Tehachapi to Tonapah  
I’ve driven every kind of rig that’s ever been made  
I’ve driven on the back roads so I wouldn’t get weighed  
and if you give me: weed, whites, and wine  
and show me a sign  
I’ll be willin’ to keep movin’…

Her hands touched his leather-clad shoulders as the music played, her body leaning in to hold him close. “Dance with me?”

Plucking the smoldering cigar end out of his teeth, he crushed it in the ashtray on the jukebox. Turning, he took Jean into his arms and held her tight.

For a moment, just a moment, he wished they were at the Auger Inn in Salem Center, before the mission to Kentucky. He scented her hair as he had then and tried to wish that all that had happened in between ... hadn’t.

“Don’t, Logan, please...”

“If ya don’t like what ya find in my head, why do ya keep lookin’?”

“No regrets. I want ... something new.”

“No ya don’t. Ya want somethin’ ancient, somethin’ that ain’t never a good idea.”

“You don’t want it? Look at me, Logan, and tell me you don’t.”

“Jeannie...”

~ ~ ~

His body didn’t know it was any different as they strained and moved, didn’t care as it thrust inside her, craving her with a hunger that might never end. He tried to keep his mind from knowing it, to keep her from the thoughts, but he couldn’t. It was the last night. It had to be. Unless things changed, unless she agreed to things he knew she never would.

When it was over, he felt empty.

“I’m cold; please hold me.”

Logan drew her close in the dark. The rough cotton of the tangled sheet fought him a moment before he could cover them with it. The tiny motel room was stale, barely cleaned since its last occupant had died in it. Grimacing unseen beside her, he hoped she wasn’t still scanning his mind.

“It’ll be okay; we can keep meeting in the city, in Manhattan or maybe Brooklyn – anywhere.”

“Ya know that’ll never work, darlin’ – hasn’t been, not fer long.”

“It can, if we want it to.”

Logan was silent for a long time and Jean didn’t speak again, as if she was afraid of how he’d answer. He drew in a deep breath and ignored the plaintive thump of his battered heart.

“If we can’t be t’gether without hidin’ ... we gotta wait ‘til we can, if ever. I’m willin’ t’ do what it takes, t’ change my life fer ya, but yer not – not yet. I don’t need t’ be a telepath t’ know that yer gonna want a reckonin’ with Slim. When ya get that, ya might wanna try again. I can’t watch ya walk that path, make that choice.”

“Scott left me. He had an affair with Emma, but worse ... he loves her and she loves him.”

“Don’t mean yer claim on tha man is void.”

“Logan, you don’t understand; he loves her – in a way he’s never loved me.”

“Bullshit – ya an’ Slim have been an item forever.”

“Exactly, forever – we fell in love as teens. When we grew up, we changed. He loved the idea of me, someone I haven’t been in a long time. Marriage has been a daily reminder to him that he didn’t, couldn’t, marry the girl he actually fell for. I guess I felt it too and ignored it, buried it. Maybe ... we’ve been in love ... with love – and reality has just not been enough. He would never discuss children, even before Apocalypse changed him, and afterward, he wouldn’t discuss anything. We used to talk; we used to be each other’s whole world. Now he loves Emma. She ... she sees him as he ‘really is’, listens to him, accepts him. Or so he thinks. With her, he feels … alive ... again.”

Logan growled. “Tha bastard told ya that?”

“He didn’t have to.”

Logan sat up and pulled her up to face him, though he knew she could barely see him in the dim room. His hands held her upper arms gently. “If that’s true, if there’s no goin’ back ... let it go. Jean, I love ya – if we drop tha lies, tha sneakin’ ‘round ... why not ya an’ me t’gether?”

“Turn our lives inside out? My life has already been gutted. The others –”

“They ain’t gotta stake or a vote in what we do. Slim left an’ they’re all worried ‘bout ya; all they want is t’ know yer gonna be okay. This ain’t a fling with us, we both been feelin’ this thing between us fer years, an’ it ain’t been that big a secret. Even while things were good with ‘im, ya still felt this fer me; gotta be somethin’ t’ that. Just tell me yer willin’ t’ try t’ see what this could be. Jeannie, I’d do anythin’…”

She was silent, her breath caught in fear, not revelation. It changed her scent and he knew she shrank from the future he dreamed of without even uttering a word, or turning away.

“Please, Logan, I need time … but I can’t face this alone.”

He let his hands drop. “I can’t. What yer askin’ – ya want me t’ be yer solace, ‘til ya heal. When ya heal, ya might be ready fer a new love, but it won’t be me, will it? Ya love what I do t’ ya, but ya don’t love me. Ya won’t even try.”

She began to cry and he embraced her and held her close because he couldn’t refuse her comfort. He was in this room now because he couldn’t refuse her at all. That meant he’d have to go, leave the school, for a time.

“No, don’t...”

“I hafta, darlin’, an’ ya know why.” When she didn’t protest a second time, he knew she understood. Yet her quiet acceptance of his decision tore his heart out. She wouldn’t fight to make him stay. She didn’t need him. “I’ve laid all I am at yer feet: my love, my heart, my pride… It ain’t ‘nuff an’ I guess it never will be,” he whispered. “Can ya tell me why? Do ya even know why?”

 _I can’t,_  she spoke in his mind, as sobs wracked her body.

Logan held her, stroked her hair and kissed it. “Hush, darlin’, hush…”

When she quieted, she stirred restlessly in his arms. “We should go back.”

“Please give me this,” he whispered into the flood of her hair, his head bowed. “Give me t’night…”

She lifted his chin and kissed him until the passion that had always been between them threatened to burn them again. They touched, they moved together, filled their bodies with fire – and when it burned out, they both knew the ashes were cold.

~ ~ ~

Logan shifted and groaned in his sleep, gripped by horrid images, a visceral nightmare.

He and Jean were together in a small, hot place. They were going to die. As powerful as they were, they had done everything they could – but it wasn’t enough.

Jean was dying; she couldn’t breathe because the oxygen was leaking away. In their last moments, she asked him a terrible question. In agony, he answered, and shot his claws into her body to end her suffering. As the light in her emerald eyes faded, a new fire flared in its place. Bursting from within her, the Phoenix Force exploded and its cosmic fire destroyed the world.

“Logan, wake up, please!”

With a shout of horror, he woke and sat bolt upright with all claws out, his breathing ragged. “Jean ... Jeannie ... yer alive, yer safe...” ~Snakt~. He was covered in sweat and the sense of foreboding had not faded with the nightmare.  _It’s tha same, tha same dream that started just after we returned from Kentucky, an’ tha caverns. Maybe it ain’t just a dream – an’ Jean is gonna die cuz I kill ‘er, I let tha Phoenix Force out..._

“What is it, what did you dream?”

“Stay outta my head, Jeannie.” The stale miasma of the motel room filled his nostrils. As she held his stiff body, he let the sweet smell of rose and lavender in her hair chase it away, but her scent couldn’t soothe him as it once had.

“Logan, what is it?”

He was silent, unable to tell her. He never did tell her.

~ ~ ~

Logan looked back once as the noise of the motorcycle destroyed the quiet morning. Jean stood at her bedroom window, her hand pressed to the cold glass, her eyes full of shining regret.

He had told her he needed to help Rooke and would go back to Chicago. She had known he intended to be gone longer than he claimed, but she hadn’t said anything. In an empty hallway of a nearly empty school, they hadn’t touched when they said goodbye.

Lifting a hand to her in farewell, he tried to smile. He would go to Chicago, and then he would search for answers. It was possible that the nightmare was saturating his sleeping mind because of the mental connection she kept with him so often.That morning, he had asked her to break it. Whatever the dream was, if there was a way to stop it, he would find it. Even if he had to prevent it by simply staying away from her, it could not be allowed to happen.

There were mysteries to be solved and if he focused on them, he might be able to forget how she had looked at him in a motel room in the Bronx, how she had felt in his arms, under his body. Images and sensations tormented him: the Danger Room, a rose garden at night, the crush of grass under her as his hands slid her dress up her thighs. He had brushed leaves from her hair in the shadow of so many telepathic minds, all unaware.

Through the window, her expression was one of bewildered loss. She had looked that way in the snow, where grass and trees had stood. With the cavern at her back, the impossible arctic wind blowing her hair into her face, she had seemed vulnerable. Able to reach out at last, she had dared to shatter the silence of their unspoken feelings. The silence between them had healed, and someday she would, too.

Turning away, he left her. The cold wind in his face did not echo with the strange alien cries of predators, and no snow crunched under the wheels as he drove down the lane; yet his heart, trapped in frozen silence, longed to hear those cries again.

 

FINI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan’s adventure in Chicago, going off to help Rooke, shows up in my Doc Ock tale, “Of Dreams and Dust”. For those who are curious about what’s going on with Rooke, see that story for details. Doc Ock and Rooke’s dealings with Magneto happen before the ‘Eve of Destruction’ storyline, which begins in Uncanny X-Men # 392.
> 
> Comics Spoilers: For those who like timelines, Scott ends up in the Hellfire Club in “Assault on Weapon Plus”, (New X-Men # 142 – 145). He watches a stripper morphed to look like Jean in her Dark Phoenix incarnation, and has a drinking match with Logan, who is trying to make him own up to his mistakes, in my opinion. Those events occur after my story is completed, and lead up to the events in Logan’s recurring nightmare actually coming to pass. If you want to read more on that, look out for a story called “Planet X” (New X-Men # 146 – 150). After that story, Jean does “die” as far as the X-Men know. The Phoenix Force resurrects her again and according to comics canon, she goes to this “White Hot Room”, but I’m jumping off into AU territory at that point, because I’m writing a mini-series of fics with Jean/Sabretooth, while the X-Men still think she’s dead. Yes, I’m serious – LOL. I will start posting those in their planned order over in my Sabretooth series, “Equilibrium: of Cruelty and Pain”.
> 
> Logan’s quote “Do not sow where ya cannot expect t’ stay” is a paraphrase from Nancy Springer’s novel, "The White Hart". The actual line is, “I would be a coward to sow where I cannot expect to stay.” Frank Castle is the Punisher, of course. Thank you for your amazing patience and thank you even more for reading my tales. For now, this tale is completed, but Logan has a part in the back half of my Sabretooth story "Redemption", as well. It's probably as close to an immediate sequel of this story's events as I'm likely to get. Logan may have more fics of his own eventually, but he actually shows up in my Sabretooth series a lot. - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


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